One More Confessional
by owlmoose
Summary: A metafic based on The Confessional by Ikonopeiston, Another Confessional by The RyRy, and Yet Another Confessional by Never Draven. The story of Paine's experiences as a recorder for the Crimson Squad, told in journal form. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This is the third meta-fic in the quartet of stories beginning with "The Confessional" by Ikonopeiston, following in the footsteps of "Another Confessional" by The RyRy and "Yet Another Confessional" by Never Draven. This story follows the events of the Crimson Squad training from Paine's point of view, in journal form.

Those of you who have read my other work should note that the events in this story do not relate to "Fate", "Chasing My Past", or my other stories about Paine. This is Ikonopeiston's universe; I'm just visiting for a while.

Many thanks to The RyRy for the title.

As in the other stories, the dates at the beginning of each entry are to be read as: year of the current Sin, month, day. So 197S9.8.32 is the thirty-second day of the eighth month of the ninth year of the 197th incarnation of Sin. (Date system developed by Ikonopeiston.)

Characters and settings from Final Fantasy X-2 are copyright Square Enix.

**Update 10/25/05:** Although this story can be read as a stand-alone, it is intended to be read in tandem with the other three stories, and I recommend so doing. All four can now be found together as _The Confessional _at the URL listed in my profile.

* * *

**One More Confessional**

**Part One**

197S9.8.32

My boss called me into his office today and said that he had a special assignment for me. Turns out the Maesters are training some elite force to run the Crusaders, and they want recorders to follow the teams of candidates, tracking their actions for later evaluation. "I know you've been bored here, so I thought of you," he told me.

Was he ever right about that one. If I have to spend another year following around the Luca Goers and their idiot fans, capturing every preen and boast for the sphere screens, I think I might end up killing someone. So I accepted without hesitation and went home to pack.

They're putting us on a boat tomorrow for Bevelle, about half a dozen recorders and technicians. We'll get more details about the job there. Supposedly, we won't be involved in any fighting, but I'll believe that when I see it. No matter what they say, I'm bringing my sword. If I thought I could get away with carrying the machina pistol that Berrick gave me, that'd be coming along, too, but given that I'm headed for the heart of Yevon I think I'd better not.

Berrick. I feel a little guilty, leaving Luca without letting him know, but it's not like I can do anything about it. He's out running salvage missions or training at sea, or whatever it is that Al Bhed blitzers do during the off-season, and won't be back for months. Besides, it's not like we ever promised each other anything -- we had fun last season, but maybe it's for the best that I go now.

I really wonder if I'm going to be able to keep up this journal. I don't mind carrying it around, although having enough ink might be a problem, but what if somebody finds it? Close quarters seem likely, so writing in secret is going to be tricky. Still, I can't imagine being without it -- I've had one ever since that priest taught me how to write. So I'll make it work somehow. If that bitch matron at Kilika Temple never caught me with it, not to mention writing almost every day while living on the streets, I should be able to work around some military lunkheads.

197S9.8.41

Yevonite idiots. They send us on a two-day boat trip from Luca to Bevelle, spend two hours lecturing us about our mission when we arrive -- stay with your assigned team, record the actions of the candidates, stay impartial, don't interfere, etc., etc. -- and then we cool our heels for a week while they try to figure out how best to get us to Mushroom Rock. They couldn't have given us the briefing on the boat and skipped this detour? Fayth, I could have walked to Mushroom Rock by now.

And they made me give up my sword. "Recorders travel light," they said. Bastards. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it was mine. Maybe I'll be able to steal a better one when we arrive.

At least this gives me a chance to see Bevelle. Growing up in the southern half of Spira, I've never made it up here before. Lots of military and religious types wandering around. Given how much larger it is than Luca, I figured there'd be lots to see and do, but there really isn't. I never thought I would miss blitzball.

xxxxxxxxxx

Finally! We're heading out in half an hour. We should be at Mushroom Rock in two days. The same two days it would have taken us to get there if we'd just gone straight from Luca in the first place. Seeing Yevon in action like this, I no longer regret not joining the Crusaders. All this "hurry up and wait"; it makes me crazy. Well, off to the ship.

197S9.8.44

I can see the dock. Thank-- whoever; I will be so glad to get off this fiend-damned boat. The waters were rough the whole time, the trip took a day longer than expected, and everyone is sick and exhausted. I usually enjoy sailing, and even I got queasy. I haven't been able to eat for over a day and must look like death warmed over. Some way to meet my new team -- the leader will take one look at me and decide that I'm weak, useless. I'll have to find some way to correct that impression.

xxxxxxxxx

I met the team leader. He was something of a surprise.

They herded us off the boat like cattle, marched us up the path to the bluffs, and then stuck us all in a hot, dusty tent. More waiting while they sort out which team gets which recorder. After what felt like hours, the officer in charge took my arm, pushed me into a very large man, said "Here's your recorder," and left.

My immediate impression was of a broad chest. Then its owner stepped back with a displeased grunt. Great, I thought, he wasn't expecting a woman, and he's pissed. I crossed my arms and looked up with every intention of telling him off for taking an attitude, and then I recognized him.

Tall, strong, long brown hair, left arm and leg replaced by machina, forbidding brown eyes behind small round spectacles. This could only be one person: Nooj. Nooj the Undying, Nooj the pride of the Crusaders. I had never met the man, but of course I knew him by reputation -- blitzers usually bore me, Berrick being an exception rather than the rule, so I spent most of my spare time in Luca's Crusader bar, and it seems like half of the stories told there involve Nooj in one way or another. And he's leading my team? I'm shadowing a living legend.

I gave myself five seconds to be shocked, then composed myself. He gave my shoulder a friendly slap and asked me to follow him. I did so, just a pace behind -- I was practically raised by warrior monks, so I know my military etiquette, and I suspect that the small formalities matter to this man. He led me to his encampment and immediately started quizzing me about my background and experience. I only had time to tell him about my sword training; he interrupted me and waved it off, saying that I'd never find one here and should stick to recording.

So arrogant! Still, with his exploits I suppose he's earned a bit of arrogance, so I simply nodded and looked past his shoulder, with the vacant expression that passes for respect in the ranks. Another trick the warrior monks taught me. He seemed pleased by this and dismissed me, pointing the way to a spring where I could wash up. So here I sit, finally clean of salt spray and the stench of seasickness, with a moment to write all this down.

I wonder who else is on the team; it can't just be Nooj. Maybe once he could have taken on entire armies by himself, but the artificial limbs clearly limit his mobility. Guess I'll find out soon enough.

xxxxxxxxx

Well, I met the rest of the team, such as it is. A cocky Al Bhed, no taller than I am and probably about the same age, named Gippal; and Baralai, a sweet Yevonite who seems way out of his depth here. I am probably the least maternal girl in all of Spira, but my first impulse was to hug him and tell him that everything would be all right. I resisted, naturally -- it would've made me look too much of a typical female in front of Nooj, and I don't want him to see me that way. I want to be an asset to him, not some girl to be protected.

Why do I care so much what he thinks of me?

Time to get some sleep. It'll be nice to lie down on solid ground.


	2. Chapter 2

**One More Confessional**

**Part Two**

197S9.8.45

Had a nice chat with Baralai. We're both morning people, so we were up long before the other two. I sat on a rock and watched the sun rise while he finished his devotions. Afterwards, we swapped life stories -- a heavily edited version, in my case, and I'm sure he held back plenty as well. He admitted to his unease about being part of a fighting force. Unease-- who am I kidding? The poor kid is petrified. Gippal has offered to teach him how to fire a gun, and I encouraged him to accept. Figures that such a devout Yevonite would have no idea how to use one. They're off together now, presumably taking their first lesson.

Baralai's a good guy, we're already well on the way to becoming friends -- turns out we have a lot in common, having both been raised in the temples -- but I really wonder what he's doing here. I have never met anyone who seems less like a military man. I'm doing my best not to let him see me thinking that, though. He must have his reasons for enlisting, and he's much more likely to stay alive if he has confidence in them, and himself.

In the meantime, I'll watch his back. He probably just needs some time to get used to his new circumstances; once he's more comfortable with his weapon, I think he'll be fine.

Not much going on today. After Bevelle, I should have known that they'd rush us out here just to make us sit around for awhile longer, but that doesn't make it any less irritating. With the boys gone shooting, it's just me and Nooj, and he's not much for small talk. Neither am I, but I wish he wouldn't just sit impassively in the distance, occasionally glancing at me, then looking away. Makes me nervous.

197S9.8.46

Huh. Baralai is a former summoner -- he told Gippal, and Gippal told me. Terrible gossip, that boy. I haven't really gotten a handle on him yet; nice enough, I suppose, but a big-time flirt, although so much not my style. Way too talkative and energetic. Give me the strong, silent type any day. Berrick was like that. I miss him, a little, sometimes. I wonder what he would make of all this?

But anyway, Lord Baralai. The thought amuses me for some reason; the few summoners I've met all seemed much tougher, although maybe he never went on a pilgrimage. That might explain it; temple life can leave you pretty soft (one of the many reasons I escaped it as soon as I could). But now I'm even more curious about what brought him here. He must be fallen, somehow.

Oh well, he'll tell me, or not. I'm the last person to go prying into other people's lives, into places where I'm not welcome. He knows he can talk to me if he likes.

I wonder what he would say if I called him by his proper title? Then again, maybe I shouldn't tease him too much today -- while he was off practicing, he accidentally shot one of the armory guys in the foot. An honest mistake for a beginner, but he's still completely mortified. It doesn't help that Nooj chewed him out afterwards for observing the Yevonite tradition of letting the younger members of the group follow orders first. I know things work differently in the Crusaders, but would it hurt Nooj to show a little respect?

What a group for the Maesters to put together -- a Yevonite, an uptight military regular, and an Al Bhed. And wherever I fit in, with knowledge of everything but belonging nowhere. It's almost like they want these guys to fight amongst themselves. I wonder if the other teams are this badly mismatched?

At least Gippal and Baralai seem to be getting along.

Another quiet day. It's almost as dull here as Luca in the off-season.

197S9.8.47

This could be trouble.

The boys were at target practice, and Nooj called me over for a chat. He asked me about my background again, and this time he actually let me finish talking. I gave him the relevant facts of my life -- orphaned by Sin at the age of four, raised in Kilika Temple, taught swordplay by the warrior monks stationed there, ran away to Luca and ended up a sphere recorder. I also mentioned that I know the basics of using a gun. He seemed impressed, and suggested that I start carrying a rifle, which he thinks that will be more practical and easier to come by than a sword. It's a good idea; I'll try to snag one from the armory tonight. Now I wish I had known how all this would shake out -- I would have brought my own pistol and left the blade at home.

It seemed only natural for me to ask about his past at that point. I wasn't really expecting him to talk, so I was stunned when he gave me an honest answer. He told me about some of his exploits with the Crusaders, the battle that cost him his limbs, the horrors of being rebuilt in machina, his struggles to learn how to walk and fight -- and live, really -- all over again. It was a moving tale, and I found myself reaching out to him. Without really thinking about it, I moved my right hand forward, which meant taking his left. The machina hand. He wears a glove on it, so I didn't even notice a difference at first, but when I threaded my fingers through his and squeezed, I felt the hard steel beneath. It was a shock, but not an unpleasant one. Then he buried his other hand in my hair, his touch warm and strong yet delicate at the same time, and though that was even more of a surprise, it was definitely not unpleasant, in any way.

The caress was brief; he pulled away with a quick apology, and I accepted it. But his eyes lingered on mine afterwards, just for a moment, and something flickered there. Probably just simple desire, but maybe-- I don't know. Not enough information to speculate, really.

He left me then, alone with my thoughts. This man seems difficult to get along with in so many ways; he is arrogant, and inflexible, and rude. Yet the fact is that I am drawn to him, and have been from the moment we were introduced. I'm not sure why. He's attractive, certainly, with those broad shoulders and that long hair falling into his face -- fayth, I sound like a star-struck little girl! -- but I think it's more than that. He's been through hell and survived. Maybe I see him as a kindred spirit.

But pursuing him would be a bad idea. Relationships in the ranks are always risky, especially with your commanding officer. I should probably just admit my attraction -- to myself, not him! -- and move on. I bet that's what he would do; I barely know him, but I can already tell he has an iron will. That one will never lose control.

xxxxxxxxx

Nooj thinks that Gippal and Baralai are lovers. When they came back from shooting today, Gippal had a scratch on his cheek, and Nooj said something about Baralai playing rough. Hah! I find the very idea quite funny. Clearly, Gippal does, too -- I could see him holding back laughter. Baralai just looked confused. I thought about enlightening them both, but it's not really my place. If the boys want to keep their weapons training secret from Nooj, I respect that. And Baralai might keel over dead from mortification if I told him what Nooj meant by his comment.

In all seriousness, though, Nooj is not a particularly stellar judge of character, at least not of Baralai's, if he assumes that Baralai and Gippal are sneaking off into the bushes. I doubt that Baralai could unbend enough at this point to as much as touch a woman, much less have sex with a man.

Still, there's something in the way that Gippal looks at Baralai sometimes -- a sideways glance, a glint in his single eye. So not yet, but maybe soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**One More Confessional **

** Part Three  
**

197S9.8.48

I got to spar with Nooj today. He found us some staves, and we dueled with them as though they were swords. To be blunt, it kicked ass; I haven't sparred in ages. I miss my blade.

Nooj is amazing. The machina leg keeps him from any real footwork, and his swings are a bit too hard -- maybe he was used to a two-handed weapon before his injuries? But it's clear that he was once something incredible. Even with all his limitations, I'd be slightly over-matched in a fair fight today; I can only wonder at what he used to be.

I think I impressed him, but he didn't say much either way. Really, he's said hardly anything at all since our moment yesterday. I suppose that's all right with me. If he'd rather pretend it didn't happen, it'll make both our lives much easier.

Still no word from the Maesters regarding when we're shipping out, or where. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll spend the rest of my life at Mushroom Rock. All this waiting around isn't doing anyone any good. The candidates are getting restless, quarrelling, even brawling. I've already had rescue Baralai from half a dozen potential fights. I honestly don't mind helping him out, but I'm starting to worry a little. He'll need to stand on his own two feet eventually.

xxxxxxxxx

Just talked to Baralai a bit, and I'm feeling better about things there. He already knows that he can't depend on me forever and has redoubled his resolve to improve his shooting skills. I think he also wants to earn some respect from Nooj. Part of me wishes Nooj would go easier on him, but I also see where Nooj is coming from -- it's probably going to be dangerous out there, and none of us can afford for Baralai to be unprepared. Then again, it's not like Baralai doesn't understand that on his own. All Nooj is accomplishing with his obvious disdain is to make Baralai even more nervous. I wish there was something I could do.

A bit of amusement: Gippal is sitting across the fire from Nooj, staring at him. I know that expression: that of an Al Bhed who's just itching to take apart an intriguing new machina, then put it back together. I saw that exact same glint in Berrick's eyes more than once. I wonder if Nooj has noticed. Probably not; he seems really bad at picking up on what other people are thinking. Nor does he seem to truly care.

Yeah. I'm better off not going down that road.

197S.9.8.50

Not much happened yesterday. Gippal took Baralai shooting, I sat around camp and did my best to ignore Nooj. I think I succeeded, mostly; I still caught him watching me a few times, though. Maybe he hasn't been any more able to put our brief encounter out of his mind than I.

It does looks like Gippal finally got his shot at messing with the machina last night. Nooj was trying to oil the joints, and even I could see that he was making a mess of it. You'd think he'd have learned how to take better care of his limbs by now. Anyway, Gippal got up the nerve to give him some pointers, and Nooj actually looked grateful.

Today looks to be more of the same. I'd say that I really wish the Maesters would make up their minds about what to do with us soon, but I'm not holding my breath.

xxxxxxxxx

What was I saying about trouble earlier?

Trouble is Nooj. Nooj is trouble. Nooj is dangerous.

The boys were out late, and the evening was getting nippy, so Nooj and I built a fire near the spring, then sat by it and got to talking. He rarely sits on the ground, since getting up is so difficult for him, so he leaned, half standing, against a convenient boulder. I settled on the ground next to his feet, my back to the stone, and my head ended up resting on his right thigh. I don't even remember what we were discussing -- military matters of some sort, probably -- when he started playing with my hair again. I've always loved being petted like that and so arched my neck back in pleasure. And then I saw him, hair and eyes glinting almost golden in the firelight. Something about his strong face in the flickering light took my breath away completely, and I smiled.

Then his hand slid from my hair, caressing my shoulder on its way to covering my breast. And I placed my hand over his and pressed down -- all I could think of was my need to bring his warm palm and long, strong fingers as close to my body as I possibly could. I heard a breath catch in his throat, and the world stopped as I stared into his eyes.

I have never wanted anyone as badly as I wanted Nooj at that moment.

I don't know what would have happened if Gippal and Baralai hadn't returned right then. We heard them coming before we saw them, Nooj pulling away and standing up as if he had been burned at the first rustle. I don't know how much they saw. If it was anything at all, they will know -- there was no mistaking that scene as anything but a prelude to bed.

Truth be told, I'm not certain whether to be glad or sorry that they interrupted us.

Nooj disappeared almost immediately. Too bad, because Baralai was bursting with pride -- the shooting session had gone uncommonly well. He'd made several bulls-eyes in a row after hitting one for the first time. So flush was he with his newfound confidence that he tackled me, drawing me into a wresting match with irresistible enthusiasm. I beat him in the end, but only by tickling him into submission. He is so much fun to be around; it's much like I imagine having a little brother would have been, even if he is older than I am.

Why couldn't I have been attracted to Baralai instead? He's sweet, he's gentle, he's easy to talk to and simple to understand. Everything that Nooj is not. It's too late now, of course -- the brotherly image is well into my head, and the idea of touching him with anything other than friendly affection is far too weird. But maybe if I had thought of him differently before-- Oh, who am I kidding? Certainly not myself. I could never be remotely interested in Baralai as a lover, he's just too pretty and soft. I need someone with an edge, someone more like me.

Nooj has that edge. Boy does he ever. Maybe too much so; what if he cuts me to shreds?

I don't know what I'm going to do. I guess I could just hope that it goes like it did before, that he acts like nothing happened. But if he doesn't, if he desires me as much as I want him, it may be too late to back out now.

197S9.9.01

Big day today. Nooj got called away this morning and then gathered us later to share the news he'd received -- he has our orders at last. About time. It's been, what, almost 20 days since I left Luca? Anyway, we'll be shipping out in eight days. That means that I will have lost over half a month of my life to mission prep by the time we get out of here, but at least there's an end in sight now. And the time should pass fairly quickly, since it sounds like Nooj will be keeping us busy -- foraging for weapons and supplies, giving lessons on how set up and break camp, etc. The lessons probably won't be anything I don't already know in theory, but the practice will do me good.

As soon as Nooj gave us our orders, Baralai caught my eye and smiled. Looks like he's genuinely excited about getting the chance to prove himself, and I'm so glad to see it. Not even a week ago, I was afraid that he'd run away screaming when this day came. So I couldn't help but smile back. I'm really proud of how far he's come already.

Apparently they didn't tell Nooj where we're going yet. Frankly, I don't really care. Anyplace but here will be just fine.

xxxxxxxxx

Gippal finally came clean to Nooj about the shooting lessons, and we're all going to the firing range he improvised for a little exhibition match tomorrow. I haven't fired a gun in months -- not since the last time I took target practice with Berrick -- so I'm a little nervous about being rusty, but I'm also looking forward to it. I want to see whether Baralai's lessons have paid off, and I'm also madly curious to learn how Nooj handles a gun.

It's so strange to think about Berrick. He seems far away -- not from here, but from me, from my life. I remember how dangerous and exciting he seemed when I first became involved with him, the very illicitness of his race being half the appeal. Now I compare him to Nooj and he seems as safe and ordinary as-- I don't know, Baralai.

Fayth, I have got to stop going on and on about that man! I should probably just jump him and get it over with.


	4. Chapter 4

**One More Confessional**

**Part Four**

197S9.9.02

Nooj is walking much better this morning. He'd been getting slower and creakier every day; now his limp is notably less pronounced. I saw Gippal working on his arm earlier -- boy, he must have been in heaven -- so I assume he did the leg yesterday. Now I'm wondering if the Maesters didn't assign Gippal to the same team as Nooj for a very specific purpose: to be his personal mechanic.

I thought that getting our orders would calm me down, but I'm more restless than ever. Ever since yesterday, I've been prowling around the camp, checking out other team's encampments in preparation for the looting -- I mean, "foraging operation" -- that Nooj has asked us to do after the others ship out. So many people are careless, just leaving valuable stuff around, and it's very tempting to start liberating it now. But I've gotten in too much trouble for stealing from comrades before; it's a habit I'd really rather not get back into. I can resist.

xxxxxxxxx

After a quick packing lesson (just a refresher course for me, as I suspected it would be, although it's good to get the practice since I've never actually served in the military), we headed down to the firing range.

Baralai was as nervous as a cat; he could barely hold the gun at first. Probably afraid of messing up in front of Nooj. But after Gippal stood behind him and rested his hands on his shoulders for a minute, he calmed down and performed beautifully. Better than I did, for sure. Even Nooj seemed impressed.

Nooj was competent, but really not much better than that. Lack of practice, I suppose; the Crusaders still don't generally use machina, at least not to my knowledge. My shooting needs a lot of work. I hope I get a chance to study with Gippal as Baralai has. Gippal, naturally, is a crack shot, the best of us by far.

Now we're back in camp with very little to do. Gippal and Baralai have disappeared together, and this time I have my suspicions. There was something about the way Gippal touched Baralai down at the shooting range, much more tender and familiar than I have seen them before. I'm not sure what to think about that. I wonder if I'll have the guts to ask Baralai when I see him next?

Nooj took off also, to that pool I bet he thinks we don't know about. The boys and I have been down there to bathe and relax a couple of times. I'm seriously considering joining Nooj there now, but not for a bath, and certainly not to relax.

I know he likes his privacy, and maybe he'll be angry if he thinks I'm invading it. But this is getting ridiculous. I haven't been able to think about anything else for two days. Whenever my mind has a free moment, it goes back to the campfire -- his leg warm and solid under my cheek, his hand pressed hard against me, the look in his eyes--

Ah, what the hell. The worst he can do is say no, right? I'm going.

xxxxxxxxx

I don't know if I can go through with this.

I went down to the pool and hid in some bushes while he disrobed for his bath. The moon is bright tonight, and so I saw everything. And I do mean everything. I should probably have guessed that battle injuries causing the loss of two limbs would also do serious damage to the body that remained, but the thought didn't occur to me until too late. His entire torso is thick with scars, twisted and mutilated. The comparison to the parts that remain whole is heartbreaking, because they are near perfection; imagining what he looked like before he was ruined almost brings me to tears.

I am terrified. And yet I still desire him, as much as before. Maybe more.

Fayth, I need to get a grip! Of all people, I shouldn't let a few scars stop me; after all, my own are just as ugly and just as deep. The only true difference between us is that his scars are visible. Mine aren't.

It's just the shock of seeing them unexpectedly. Maybe now that it's passed, I can approach him without showing fear or revulsion. I'd better get back there before I lose my nerve.

xxxxxxxxx

That was--

Nooj is--

Words are failing me utterly, I can't possibly find the right ones to describe our encounter. But I have to try anyway; I never want to forget this night.

I went back down to the pool, back to those same bushes, and waited for him to finish bathing. I watched him some more, getting used to the look of his body, and I began to see a sort of grotesque beauty in it, as if someone had taken a painting by a master artist and carefully slashed most of it to ribbons, leaving just enough intact to let the original magnificence shine through.

When he stepped out of the water, I stripped naked and revealed myself. His eyes widened at the sight of me. It seemed wrong to break the stillness with words, so instead I dropped to my knees and showed him why I had come.

He made no sound, tangling his wet hand in my hair and pressing me close, his breath becoming ragged when I started using my teeth. Eventually, he pulled me back, gently but firmly, and lowered himself to the grass. I met him there, and he took me into his arms. We explored every inch of one another with our hands, the scar tissue no longer frightening or strange up close; it was simply a part of him, like his sleek hair or smooth cheeks. When we finally joined, it was the most perfect and natural thing I had ever experienced, as if I had been waiting all my life for him to arrive inside me.

We held each other for a long time afterwards, still not speaking. He rolled onto his back and I curled against his chest, tracing the scars there, memorizing the path of every cut and tear. He is so solid, so real, strong and yet gentle all at once. His natural hand is deft and sure; the machina one strokes me so delicately that I can hardly bear it. Never have I been handled with such care. Never have I responded so powerfully to a touch.

Any thoughts I had of sleeping with Nooj to get him out of my system are long gone -- he has worked himself so deeply into my system that already I cannot imagine being without him. I knew that he was dangerous. I just didn't know how dangerous. But it's too late; for the moment, I am lost. All I can do right now is see where this thing takes me.


	5. Chapter 5

**One More Confessional **

**Part Five  
**

197S9.9.03

It took me a long time to get to sleep last night. But once I finally drifted off, I slept better than I have in years.

I still smell like him. The mild scent of his body and that unusual soap he uses, flavored with a faint tinge of machina oil -- it is all unmistakably Nooj, and every whiff arouses and comforts me at the same time. I should probably go bathe, but I don't really want to.

I wonder what happens now. He'll want to hide this from the guys, I expect. But how long can we make that stick in these close quarters? If we start sneaking off together every night, they'll figure out that something is up. Hell, if they saw us by the fire, they probably already know that something is up. I suppose we should talk about it tonight. If we meet tonight. I suspect that's likely.

xxxxxxxxx

Gippal took me shooting today. He's an excellent teacher. Berrick was good with the basics, but Gippal had all kinds of advice on the proper grip and tricks for improving my aim. I already feel much more comfortable. I'd still rather be carrying a sword, but since that's not an option, I'll make the best of the gun.

Really, Nooj should ask for some lessons. I don't think Gippal would dare volunteer, and Nooj could definitely use the help. Maybe I'll suggest it.

Spending the morning with Gippal was fun as well as instructive. He's got a sharp wit and isn't afraid to make fun of the Maesters. I wonder if he picked up on the fact that I probably hate Yevon at least as much as he does. Well, considering how much I laughed at his comments, I'm going to guess that he figured it out.

I hope I didn't blow our new rapport when I didn't react well to his wisecrack about Nooj using the machina arm as a weapon. So much for covering up our-- relationship? Am I ready to call it that? Anyway, I just can't bring myself to laugh at any comment about Nooj's prosthetics, especially not after seeing those scars. I think it'll be okay, though; things were awkward for a few minutes after that, but then he made another Bevelle joke and the mood became easier. I look forward to some more sessions with him.

xxxxxxxxx

Baralai wandered into camp a few minutes ago (and almost caught me writing, I need to be more careful about that). He was looking for Nooj; he didn't say why, but I can guess. There was a bruise on his cheek, just the right size and shape to have been caused by a slap, and he seemed shaken. I asked him about the mark, and he claimed it was kickback from his gun, but I don't buy it.

Nooj has got to back off. This relentless pushing will do nothing for Baralai's confidence; I suspect, in fact, that it will only make matters worse. Especially now that he knows we have some time before we need to be in fighting condition (we're going to be in the last group shipping out, Nooj got the orders today). Just because Baralai isn't a seasoned warrior-- I mean, he was a summoner! Fayth, Nooj must know how useful it will be to have a healer around. Maybe I should--

Huh. This is the third time today that I've thought about giving Nooj advice, or asking him a difficult and direct question. But I really have no idea whether that will be welcome. The fact remains that I don't actually know him all that well yet, or whether he considers me to be anything more than a bedmate. He may even be the sort of man who automatically makes a claim on the only available woman, whether he truly wants her or not. Although I have a feeling that, whatever he was like before, he's probably more discriminating about who he lets close since his injuries.

All this speculation-- Maybe I should hold off on asking him about anything serious, at least until I have a better idea of what he's thinking. Assuming that to be knowable.

At least one question is answered: he wants to see me tonight. When I returned to camp with Gippal, he caught my eye and raised an eloquent eyebrow. It was an invitation, and I accepted with the slightest nod.

xxxxxxxxx

So that was enlightening.

We met at the pool as planned and immediately fell on one another. The resulting encounter was every bit as exquisite as the one we had last night. Afterwards, we got to talking, and it turns out that Nooj is actually jealous of my friendship with the guys. He never came out and said so, but I think he suspected that I was sleeping with every man on the team. I'm not sure whether to be flattered that he assumes I'm so universally desirable or insulted at the implication that I'll sleep with just anyone. Either way, it's silly of him to worry, but it's also oddly endearing -- the legendary Nooj, so confident in battle, is secretly insecure about his ability to attract and hold onto a woman. Even when that woman is so obviously captivated by him.

Anyway, I told him that my feelings towards Baralai and Gippal are strictly friendly; that, in a way, they are like the younger and older brothers I never had. I also managed to work in some of my concerns about Baralai's self confidence as well as a suggestion that he take weapons instruction from Gippal. He seemed reassured by my comments, and even more reassured when I started stroking him again.

It amazes me how much I hunger for him, how I simply cannot get enough of him. Every kiss, every caress, every sweep of his eyes over my body leaves me wanting more and more. He's a skilled lover, of course, clearly very experienced, but there's more to it than that. I've never felt this alive in anyone's arms.

I don't see how we're going to keep this a secret much longer, if it even is one now. There probably won't be much seclusion in the field. But the idea of giving him up is intolerable. I hope he feels as strongly as I do about finding a way to continue meeting.

197S.9.9.04

Nooj and Gippal headed off to the shooting range this morning. Finally.

Before he left, Nooj presented me with a small dagger that fits quite nicely in the top of my boot. I suspect he intends me to use it to preserve my virtue in case of capture. It was a sweet gesture, I suppose, but it took a great deal of self-control to keep from laughing. I prefer a larger blade if my virtue is threatened, thank you. In this as in many things, experience is the best teacher.

It's a nice little weapon, though. I'll certainly hang on to it.


	6. Chapter 6

**One More Confessional**

**Part Six**

197S9.9.05

Another restless day. Gippal and Nooj took target practice again this morning, but otherwise everyone just sat around, brooding. After what seemed like hours of that, I decided I would likely explode if I didn't blow off some steam, so I pounced on Baralai, and that turned into a full-blown wrestling match. Well, for the guys and me, anyway; I started to invite Nooj to join in without really thinking about it, and then felt like an idiot for doing so. One wrong move with a machina limb, and he could crush any of us like a bug. He declined, then sat back and watched, looking awkward. Damn! I hate that I singled him out like that. I'll have to make it up to him later.

Anyway, it was still great stress relief.

I scratched Gippal with my nails one too many times, and he started swearing in Al Bhed. After we had finished playing, Baralai asked him for a translation. I already knew what it all meant, since Berrick taught me most of the good curses -- not _oajuh-cfaadraynd_, though; "Yevon-sweetheart", I like that. I'll have to add that one to my vocabulary -- and a fair number of other words besides. But it was amusing to watch Baralai turn red at the crudeness of Gippal's language.

Then I got to wondering: just how much Al Bhed had I picked up from Berrick and his friends, anyway? So I asked Gippal to speak it some more, just to hear what it sounded like, or so I told him. He held forth on the foulness of Yevon for a little while, and I'll be damned -- I followed most of it. I had no idea that I'd learned and remembered so much. Something stopped me from sharing that information, though. You never know when it will be useful to have a secret.

Baralai asked Gippal to teach him the language, and I think I'll sit in on the lessons. I'm hardly fluent, so I could certainly use the practice.

Nooj has disappeared again, presumably to the pool. Maybe I'll join him there.

197S.9.9.06

Will my desire for Nooj ever be satisfied? I'm thinking not. Yesterday afternoon was yet another astounding experience, by turns gentle and slow, passionate and rough. We are still learning one another's bodies and needs; there is much to discover, I think. For the first time, he pleasured me with his machina hand, and the depth of my response to the touch of it surprised even me. When he asked me whether it was because of the danger, the chance that he could hurt me with the slighted miscalculation of pressure, I said yes, because that was certainly part of it -- a little risk, a little roughness, has always turned me on. But there's something else, too, something I hesitate to tell him: the very idea of being intimately stroked by machina is so illicit, so antithetical to everything I was taught as a ward of Yevon, that it arouses me. Powerfully.

It's five years now that I have been free of that fiend-damned temple and the hypocrites who ran it, and still I flout their beliefs and rules at every opportunity. Sometimes I wonder whether that's healthy, if I shouldn't just let it go.

On a somewhat different subject, I think I'm glad that my first few encounters with Nooj were in darkness. Now that I know the joys of the lean, strong body beneath, I find the scarring much less noticeable to my eyes, but if I had first seen the true extent of the damage in broad daylight, it might have been more difficult to get past it. So I consider myself fortunate that everything played out as it did.

We had more leisure yesterday than ever before; between bouts, we napped and bathed and finally fell asleep together. Of everything that has happened between us over the past few days, waking up in his arms was perhaps the most extraordinary moment; I woke just before he did, and I spent a few long minutes just lying there, not moving, enjoying the feel of his solid chest beneath my cheek, rising and falling with his breath. It was getting cold, though, so I roused him and we headed back to camp.

Now it is morning, and I have once again slept soundly. The first group is leaving today, so they're finally passing out the recording spheres. I guess I'd better go now, get some practice with the camera.

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This camera is great -- I hadn't really taken the time to look at it closely before. Much lighter-weight than the ones I used in Luca. Better shielded, too; maybe we're going somewhere with lots of dust, or sand?The spheres are an unusual red color, very distinctive. Nooj said earlier that they've dubbed this enterprise the Crimson Squad, so I guess that's why they've chosen that color to mark the records. The spheres are also damned heavy.

As long as I was in the commander's tent, I scoped it out for anything worth liberating. There wasn't much, but I did palm three ink bottles. I suspect it won't be easy to pick up more, wherever we end up going.

197S9.9.07

Another group gone. Nooj was busy being lubed this morning, so he sent Baralai and me off to forage some more. He specifically asked me to scout out ammunition, so I've been focusing on that. The bag I brought is already filled with all types of bullets, but I see an abandoned knapsack over there, and there's enough ammo lying around that I should be able to fill up that one, too, once I'm finished taking this quick break.

It's getting harder to find time to write around camp. Much easier when we were all ignoring one another, but now that we are genuinely friends -- lovers, in our case, and I'm pretty positive now that Gippal and Baralai are sleeping together, too, although I still haven't gotten up the nerve to ask Baralai for confirmation -- we pay far more attention to what everyone else is doing. I hope I won't be forced to give up my journaling, although I suppose once my recording duties begin, the spheres I make will be another type of journal. Of a much less personal nature, though. At least I don't need to worry about ink anymore.

Well, back to the scrounging.

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The loot I brought was welcome, but Baralai made the big find: a pair of dueling pistols. They are, quite frankly, gorgeous; made of fine metal, highly polished, decorated with crimson marks that Baralai says are ancient Yevonite runes, marking them as the property of the Maesters. Gippal is checking them out to see if they still work.

In the meantime, Nooj is poring over the bags of bullets. I don't think he knows what each type is for any more than I do, but I'll let him make a show of checking them out. Even in the short amount of time I have known him, I have learned that he needs to be in control of any situation, or at least appear to be. Only when we are alone at the pool does he ever allow himself any sort of surrender, and even then I suspect he's still holding back much of the time.

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Those guns--

One of them is rigged, tampered with in such a way that it will fire a bullet into the face of whoever shoots it. They are designed purely for betrayal, to subvert a fair duel; they can have no other purpose. And they belong to the Maesters.

Of course they do. Of course. Who besides the Maesters of Yevon would come up with something so sneakily vile? When Gippal told us what he had learned, Baralai looked like he was going to be sick. Me, I had to walk away. It's just more confirmation of every bad thought I've ever had about Yevon, justification for every curse I've ever rained down on the heads of the Maesters and their priests and their nuns and their monks. Yevon is a cancer rotting at the heart of the world, full of corruption and treachery and -- yeah, I'll say it -- evil. I wish somebody would come through and sweep it all away, let the people start fresh.

I want to take those pistols and throw them into the ocean, but I also want to put them on display and parade them all over Spira. "This is what the Maesters are," I would tell everyone who came to see. "This is what Yevon is."

Damn. I hate getting into these moods. I'd better head back to camp before they start wondering what happened to me.

I very much need to forget myself with Nooj tonight. I hope he is willing.


	7. Chapter 7

**One More Confessional**

**Part Seven**

197S9.9.07

I have a sword again!

On my way back to our camp, I paid one last visit to the main encampment, just to see if there was anything big I missed, and I found it. It's shorter than I usually like, and it's not the finest material, but it's sharp. Nice and heavy, too. I may not get much of a chance to use it, but I've felt rather naked walking around without one. Guns are great, they have their uses, but there's nothing like a blade.

Some might disapprove of the method I used to acquire it. But really, is it my fault that they've left the armory so poorly guarded?

I feel better already.

197S9.9.08

It's different, waking up here at the pool, curled up with Nooj. Very peaceful. Now I wish we had slept here every night.

Last night-- mm. Finding that sword yesterday did a lot to soothe my spirits, as did performing well at our impromptu shooting session later that afternoon, but I didn't really feel right again until we came here. When we're together like that, I can forget -- forget who I was, forget what I lived through. There's no room for memories when he is stroking my face, or tracing my breasts with his mouth, or slowly moving inside me. He is very much of the now.

Nooj. I want to capture him here, in words, but every time I try, I fail. He is-- amazing? Breathtaking? Magnificent? All those things and more, but I set them down in black ink on white paper and they look so silly, so trite. If I were a poet, maybe I could do him justice, but I'm not. I'm a recorder. I don't create, I observe. I think that's why I keep a journal rather than writing anything imaginative.

He always looks straight at me, as if he is peering through my eyes and into my soul. I know that he can't be, I've shown him so little of myself, but I feel it anyway. I wonder what he sees, and what he's thinking. when he looks at me like that. I don't truly know much of him, either, beyond the obvious: the scarring; his frustration at his awkward gait; the way he groans, deep in his throat, when I touch him just so.

This was the first time we spent a whole night together. And I discovered something new: Nooj talks in his sleep. At one point he woke me up by mumbling something in my ear. At first I thought he was trying to rouse me, but it soon became clear that he was fast asleep himself. I have to admit, I find it kind of endearing. He keeps such tight control over himself while awake, it's no wonder his mind looks for an outlet when his body relaxes. I didn't really understand what he was saying, although I did catch my name a couple of times. At least I hope it was my name; the word does have another meaning, after all, a darker one.

I'm going to miss this. I don't doubt that we'll still find a way to be together, but we'll never have long, leisurely nights like these again, not unless-- No. I am not going to think about that. One day at a time, Paine, one day at a time. Let's survive the training first.

xxxxxxxxx

Hurry up and wait, as usual. They marched us down to the boats with great speed and impatience, and now we're just standing around, for hours now. Naturally. Baralai picked up a staff somewhere and noticed that I found a sword, and he asked if I'd be willing to spar. I wasn't about to turn that down, so we fought a few times. He's quite good with the staff, but he's not as good as I am with the sword -- we're not really evenly matched. It's like that time I sparred with Nooj, except in reverse. Still, it was glorious to fight with a blade again. I have missed it so much. But I just don't see how I'm going to use a sword and a recorder at the same time. Better to carry the gun; I can switch to it much more quickly. The sword will go in my pack.

Then Baralai challenged Gippal to a bare-handed fight. Now that was fun. Gippal so obviously thought he was indulging Baralai by saying yes, and then he got his clock cleaned. I figured it was coming, since priests and summoners are all drilled extensively in hand-to-hand combat, but the look on Gippal's face when he realized he was beaten was absolutely priceless. I held Baralai's staff for him while they dueled, and I had to lean on it, I was laughing so hard. I wonder if Nooj saw.

The change in Baralai over the last few days has been rather amazing. He seems much more confident, more comfortable in his own skin and with his unique abilities. I hate to admit it, but maybe that last quarrel with Nooj did him some good. If nothing else, it certainly seems to have stiffened his backbone.

Here comes Nooj. With orders to load onto the boat? I can only hope.

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We are surrounded by people. Unwashed, obnoxious, stupid people. Thanks to the secluded camp that Nooj found, we've been mostly apart from the others for so long, and I hadn't realized how much I was enjoying the relative solitude. Now it's gone, and people may start getting hurt if they don't give me my space. At least I was able to make that point rather forcefully earlier. Possibly the most obnoxious and unwashed man on the entire boat tried to hit on me less than an hour after we got underway. So I hit on him back. With my fist. What a wimp -- just one punch and he was down, bawling like a little girl. Baralai looked horrified, but I am almost positive I saw Nooj smile.

Baralai. Poor, stupid Baralai. I understand why he healed that guy; it's part of his moral code to help suffering people whenever he can, and, perhaps uniquely among Yevonites of my acquaintance, Baralai's moral code is important to him. But still, he should have known that he'd be opening the floodgates. There don't seem to be many healers on the Crimson Squad, and as soon as he cured the first guy, everyone else came running, with all their cuts and scrapes and brawling injuries and venereal diseases -- there are two other women on the boat, and they already seem to have set up shop in the only private quarters below decks. I'm no prude; I give myself when and to whom I chose. But the idea of playing the whore disgusts me. Not even on my very worst days on the streets did I so much as consider it. There's always a better way to survive.

Anyway, Baralai isn't going to have a moment's peace on this trip now. And neither am I if it gets out that I know him. I think I'll go up on deck. Nooj is looking a little green down here in the cramped and stinking hold; I should get him to join me. Fresh air will do us both good.

xxxxxxxxx

I'm enjoying the fresh air, and so is Gippal -- that boy is clearly a born sailor -- but it doesn't seem to have helped Nooj much, if at all. He's gripping the railing so hard that the knuckles on his right hand are turning white, and I think the metal under the machina hand might start to bend before too long. The ocean is really quite gentle (this is nothing like my last crossing) so I don't know why he's taking it so badly. I guess he must just be prone to seasickness. The sun is setting; maybe if I can convince him to go below deck and find a secluded place to sleep, he'll feel better.

xxxxxxxxx

It didn't work. If anything, he's worse, writhing and moaning and holding his stomach. He can't keep anything down, not even water, and I'm getting very worried.

I think I'd better go find Baralai. The teeming multitudes are going to have to wait.

197S9.9.09

I take back everything I said about Baralai yesterday. He's been a wonder, staying with Nooj every second, casting sleeping and healing spells on him, renewing the magic whenever he starts to wake. He can't cure the seasickness, but he can dull the worst of its effects. I don't know if Nooj would even survive otherwise.

I haven't left him, either. I know there's nothing I can do. He probably doesn't even know I'm here. But I can't bear the idea of leaving him, even in Baralai's capable hands. At least I can let him rest his head in my lap, and sponge down his sweating face, and make him take a little water when he wakes. It makes me feel less helpless.

Baralai tried to convince me to get some sleep, but I can't. Not until I know he's going to be all right. I will stay here and stand watch over him, for as long as it takes.


	8. Chapter 8

**One More Confessional**

**Part Eight**

197S9.9.10

Damn that Baralai! I would have been fine. Now I'm all groggy -- magical sleep must not sit well with me. I noticed he took off pretty quickly when he noticed that I was awake. My glare of death might have had something to do with that. Healers! They always think they know what's best for you. Hmph.

At least Nooj looks better now that the boat has docked. Not great, but better. He's still awfully weak, though, and will probably need help to get off the ship. I guess we should wait until everyone else is on the shore before we move. He'll be much more willing to accept my assistance if fewer people are watching, I think. He will accept it, right? He's proud, but he's not stupid.

xxxxxxxxx

Well, possibly a little stupid. I warned him he wasn't strong enough to get up on his own, but he was still only half-conscious and not listening, or maybe he just really is that stubborn, and he waved me off. Then the cane slipped on the deck under his unsteady hand, and he fell. From the way he's been wincing, I think he may have done something to his left side. Anyway, he was more docile after that -- he let me help him stand, then support him on his right as we walked out of the hold and down the gangplank. On land, he was better but still seemed a bit dizzy. I don't know whether that was due to residual seasickness or the fact that the ground is sandy and uneven. Probably both. Now he's settled down under one of the few trees here, resting. I offered him some breakfast, but he made a face and sent me away -- I guess his stomach is still bothering him. I can keep an eye on him from a distance.

I hate to let this extra breakfast go to waste. Maybe Baralai will want it; with all the magic he used on that boat, he must be exhausted. I'll go find him.

xxxxxxxxx

Nooj seems better. He's taking another nap, which I'm sure will do him a world of good. I sat with him for awhile before he dozed off, and he asked me if Baralai had used his healing magic to help with the seasickness. I told him about Baralai's tireless watch for a day and two nights, his continuous spell-casting, how he fully dedicated himself to Nooj's care. He seemed mildly flabbergasted. I hope this finally makes him understand Baralai's true value as a member of this team.

Gippal said something about catching a fellant for dinner. Seaweed would go well with that, if the edible variety grows in these waters. I haven't had seaweed-wrapped fellant in ages. It always seemed like such a treat when I was running with my pack in Luca. The seaweed was easy enough to come by, but hunting fellants with our random collection of knives and homemade weapons was more of a challenge. So it was always a big deal when we got one. Lately I've been more likely to turn my nose up at such fare, but it sounds good today.

Okay, where is all this nostalgia coming from? Normally I avoid my memories of those years when I'm reminded of them. Maybe it's being out in the wilderness again. Not that Luca is the wilderness, but in some ways it might as well have been, and I spent more nights than I care to remember camping on the less savory parts of the Highroad--

All right, enough. Time for a plant hunt.

xxxxxxxxx

That was a hell of a big fellant, and Gippal did an excellent job cooking it. I didn't find the exact type of seaweed I was looking for, but the one I did discover seemed similar enough and didn't bear any of the signs of a poisonous plant. It went well with the meat and is nutritious to boot. The others seemed to like it, even Nooj, who ate heartily and appears to be mostly back to his normal self. Although he was awfully free with the praise regarding everyone's contributions to dinner, so maybe not. Heh.

Once we'd finished, Nooj informed us that we are now officially Squadron Five -- important information for me, since I need to mark all the spheres with our designation -- and gave a mini-lecture on staying alive in strange territory. Then he surprised me by publicly and profusely thanking Baralai for caring for him on the boat. Baralai blushed, but I could see that he was pleased. Such a relief to see the two of them finally respecting one another, even if it did take a near-death experience to bring it about.

Gippal says that we are on the island of Bikanel. Interesting. One night, after Berrick had polished off most of a bottle of wine, he started talking about the glories of Home, some fabled machina city that the Al Bhed had built for themselves as a haven on a desert island called Bikanel. He said that it had been destroyed by Sin some years ago, the Al Bhed scattered. I had never been sure whether this was true, a fairy tale, or random drunken raving, but Gippal appears quite sober and just confirmed the truth of it. Huh. I wonder why the Maesters brought us here of all places?

Now more waiting. Baralai is off looking at plants again, and Gippal has settled down to tune Nooj, so I suppose I'd better pitch the tent.

xxxxxxxxx

Hmm.

Nooj got his final orders from a runner not long ago. Since I was nearby and Gippal was missing, Nooj sent me after him so that we can all get this new information at once. I headed off in the direction where I had last seen him go, over a nearby hill. I don't know what made me approach stealthily; there was no particular reason for me to hide from him. I guess old habits die hard. Anyway, he neither saw nor heard me -- he was wrapped up in an intense conversation in Al Bhed with two others. I hid behind a nearby bush and listened. I didn't understand every word, but I got more than enough to follow along.

We're on Bikanel all right -- and so is Home. It was never destroyed.

Gippal made the other two swear not to reveal the truth, and they both readily agreed. I got the feeling that protecting the secret of Home is really important to the Al Bhed. Certainly it must have been important to Berrick, if he didn't tell me the true story that night. Maybe they fear an attack from Yevon if the truth comes out, and I can't say that I blame them.

I must confess that I don't really know what to do with this information. It's not really material to our mission, as far as I know, unless we end up leading an assault on Home or something. Damn! That can't be it, can it? Well, if anything like that happens, I'll need to find a way to let Gippal know that I'm on his side. I'm the last person to have anything against the Al Bhed -- I've had too many friends on their side not to sympathize. Not to mention my personal feelings about Yevon.

I won't tell anyone. I'm sort of sorry I even heard anything.

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So Nooj has explained our orders, and it seems that we will be competing with the other squads for food, weapons, and supplies. Or, rather, they will. As of tomorrow, I am the recorder, impartial, no longer a part of the team. Impartial -- that's a laugh. Two of the closest friends I've ever had, and my lover. Sure, I can be impartial, if by impartial you mean caring equally that each of them succeed. As for not interfering, forget that. If those guys get in trouble, I'm going to help them. I'll just keep it off camera as much as I can. I'm good at my job; I know all the editing tricks.

Now that I think about it, it seems strange that they put the recorders with their teams right from the start. If they really wanted us to be impartial, shouldn't they have separated us from the candidates, kept us all strangers? By now I'm sure everyone else has bonded just as strongly as we have. Odd.

We have a long day ahead of us, so I guess I should get to sleep. I've already noticed that Gippal and Baralai are sharing a sleeping bag, so that pretense is gone. I wonder if I can convince Nooj to abandon pretense as well? Let's go find out.


	9. Chapter 9

**One More Confessional**

**Part Nine**

197S9.9.11

We only marched from sunup to about noon, when the desert sun got much too hot for us to travel. Fortunately, we've found a nice cool cave system with ample space and a spring, and it seems that we're going to hole up here for the rest of the day.

I am not a desert person. It's too hot, too windy, and I'm already sunburned. Damn this fair skin, anyway. I suppose I should cover up more, but then I'll roast. Baralai has already said he thinks he can make up salve and sunscreen for me. Fayth, I hope so.

Even in this wasteland, there are plenty of edible plants around. They kept catching my eye when Baralai stopped to collect his medicinal herbs, and eventually I just had to start collecting them -- you never know when food will get scarce. The first thing Nooj said when we stopped was to ask me how I know which plants are safe. I quickly made up a story about having spent the first few years of my life in poverty with not much to eat, and he seemed satisfied. I didn't want to go into the truth, which is that the Mi'ihen Highroad is close enough to Luca that my pack would go scrounging for food plants there when the stealing and begging wore thin or got dangerous. I actually did learn most of my identification skills from a girl who had the family history I just gave myself, so at least what I said was based in fact somewhere. I don't know why I'm so reluctant to share that part of my past with Nooj, or anyone else for that matter. Maybe I'm just afraid of the pity I know I'll see in his eyes.

Anyway. Baralai has offered to share some of his herb lore if I share mine, and I'm going to go take him up on that. I also need to tell him about this odd directive I got from the Maesters just before we left: they want me to capture a clear headshot of each of them on the sphere, with their name and a title or identifier. I gather they can say whatever they want as long as they give their true name. They didn't explain why, of course -- the Maesters never explain why, it goes against everything they believe in. My best guess is that they want to make a recruiting sphere of some sort. I told Nooj earlier but I should let the others know sooner rather then later, give them some time to decide what to say. I'll try to get the shots tomorrow.

xxxxxxxxx

It's been so long since I spent that much time with Baralai; it was nice. We mostly talked about the plants -- well, he talked, I listened -- but I also drew him out a little about Gippal. He seems happy, and I'm glad. I couldn't help teasing him about it a little, taking advantage of some of Gippal's ruder Al Bhed slang, but I think he took it well. He's more comfortable with himself and who he is every day.

I gave him one of my extra ink bottles. I've seen him writing in a slim volume much like mine more than once. Whether he's taking herbalist notes or keeping a journal, I figure he'll appreciate it. Gippal seems to be journaling as well -- he's got this machina something-or-other with a small sphere screen that he sits with and pokes at. And then there's Nooj, with that hand-held recorder. He told us today that he's taking mission notes on it, but I saw him using it all the way back at Mushroom Rock, so it's probably of a personal nature as well. I seem to have fallen into a nest of diarists. Isn't it funny, how a random group of people can all have a habit in common?

Anyway, Baralai's off getting some more water to make another compound, and-- say, is that chocolate hidden in among his leaves and twigs? Baralai's been holding out on us! I think I should let Gippal in on this particular action.

xxxxxxxxx

That little bastard. If my skin is still green in the morning...

Although I have to admit that green Gippal looks pretty funny. Okay, the whole thing is pretty funny, or at least it will be tomorrow. Baralai really got us with that fake chocolate. He's working on an antidote, but he says it takes a while to prepare. Yeah, right. I think I'll leave it to Gippal to think of an appropriate punishment.

Gippal has taken to calling me Dr. P. I really have no idea where that comes from -- if anyone among us is a doctor, it's Baralai. But it's a sign of affection, so I'll put up with it. He nicknamed Baralai "Lai" almost right away. If he has one for Nooj, he keeps it to himself. That seems wise.

xxxxxxxxx

Nooj has suggested that we all try to get some sleep, which seems a good idea to me, although I'm not convinced that sleep is what he really had in mind when he invited me to join him back by the spring. If he wants to indulge, I certainly won't complain -- who knows when we'll get another chance at this kind of privacy?

xxxxxxxxx

Whose bright idea was it to bring along recorders for a mission that's happening largely in the dark? My own night vision is good enough, but peering through a sphere camera with only a single moon up is not my idea of a good time. I'll need to depend on the others to be my eyes for danger. Fortunately both Gippal and Nooj seem very alert to that.

We just made it through an ambush: a sandworm and a pack of lizards. At first it looked like they might be overwhelmed, so I "accidentally" dropped my camera -- gee, it just slipped out of my hands, imagine that -- and joined the battle. I was able to take out several fiends with my gun before I "recovered". I'm pretty sure it'll be convincing as an accident. If I'm going to do my part in the fighting, I have to make sure the guys don't get in trouble for it.

Gippal is the star, naturally, but Nooj is much improved -- those shooting lessons seem to have really paid off -- and Baralai is fantastic with that staff. I made sure to get some good shots of each man in action. If only I could have pulled out my sword and really joined in.

Now we are resting, recovering from our minor injuries. I got a little scratch, but thanks to Baralai it doesn't even hurt any more. It's not a good camping place, though; there's an overhang, but it's too small to protect all of us for the whole day. The sun is coming up, so we'll have to move soon. I am completely slathered in Baralai's sunscreen; I hope it works.

197S9.9.12

So I tried to get those required introductory recordings after a rest break this morning, but events conspired against me. I had the guys all lined up and ready to go when Squadron Three appeared in the distance and opened fire. Opened fire! I know we're supposed to be competing with the other teams, but we weren't near water or any other resources. They were either confused or simply trying to take us out, bad news either way. They took off immediately when we fired back, so they're cowards as well as overzealous. There's an ugly combination.

Anyway, so Baralai, of all people, took that as his cue to start goofing around, introducing himself to the others and asking questions as if he had never met them before. The desert sun must be making him punchy. Gippal played along with pleasure, getting in little jabs at Yevon and the Maesters. Nooj just seemed irritated. Maybe they can use this recording with a little editing? No, probably not. We're settling in for the day now, and it'll probably be too dark once we get moving again. I'll make another attempt tomorrow.

197S9.9.13

Finally got the headshots. "Gippal the Mechanic" (he said it in Al Bhed, but I think that's what he meant), "Baralai the Navigator", and "Nooj". Just plain Nooj -- if any man in Spira is unique, it's him.

Other stuff happened, but I'm too tired to write about it, and Nooj's spot in the shade looks very inviting. Sleep time.

xxxxxxxxx

I'm scared.

Nooj has been talking in his sleep again. Usually he either mumbles or is so vague that I can't get any meaning out of it, but today is different. He keeps saying things about wanting to die: "let me go", "end it", "should be dead". Maybe he's reliving his time in the hospital, but I can't be sure. He muttered the word "nothingness" and then "forgive me", over and over again, and I don't even know who he is talking to. Himself? Me? Life itself?

Is Nooj suicidal? I can see he's having difficulties -- he moves slowly and stiffly at the end of every night before Gippal cleans out all the sand from his leg, and he winces whenever he slips in the dunes, and I think he's in some pain. He tries so hard to hide it, and for the most part he's successful, but every so often it flashes across his face, and I know. It's a hard life he's drawn, no question. But he succeeds at it so well! Not one man in ten thousand could accomplish what he has. Why should he want to throw it all away?

I don't know what to do. But I can't just let him die. I can't.


	10. Chapter 10

**One More Confessional**

**Part Ten**

197S.9.9.15

These last few days have been exhausting. Not because of anything we have done or not done in the training, but because I'm spending all of my attention watching Nooj, wondering if he is going to do something rash, something dangerous. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't think. We're running out of water, my skin is burned and peeling from the wind and sun, and I barely even care. All I can do is worry about him.

Now we're settling down for the heat of day, and I'm almost afraid to sleep by him as I usually do. What if he starts muttering about death again? But I desperately need the comfort of his arms. Dammit! I wish there was something I could do!

197S9.9.16

I will not apologize. I refuse. My lover was in danger, and I saved his life. There's nothing more basic than that. I did what I had to do. I don't care how angry he is. I'd rather have him hating me and still alive. Even if he never speaks to me again.

I'm such a fool. Here I thought we had built something together, that we were two survivors healing one another's wounds, making each other whole again. But he's just been marking time, using me to satisfy his lusts while he looks for a place to die. I feel betrayed. I opened myself to him, let myself fall--

No. No! I shouldn't even be thinking those words, much less writing them. Writing them here, committing them to paper, will make it real, and I don't want it to be real. Not today.

Deathseeker. He's a fiend-damned Deathseeker.

I don't want to write about these events. I don't want to have to remember them, ever again. But I think I have to set them down anyway -- they play in the sphere of my mind's eye, over and over again, blocking out everything else, and I need to get them out, reduce them to their bare facts. Maybe then I can finally stop shaking.

Ever since Nooj started asking for death while he sleeps, I have been watching, waiting, dreading the moment that he might decide to give up on life. Early this morning, he made his move. The team had stumbled into a particularly nasty nest of fiends, but nothing they couldn't handle, or so I thought. Then suddenly they were all out of ammo, Gippal and Baralai reaching for knives and staff respectively, when out of the corner of my eye I saw Nooj drop his gun and walk straight for a sand-bear, shuffling and slipping over the sands.

I didn't stop to think, I just acted, dropping my camera and raising my rifle in a single motion. And I shot that sand-bear, three times, right between the eyes. It roared and fell over dead.

Nooj stood stock still for a second that lasted forever, and then he turned on me, screaming, his face twisted with rage, lashing out like a wounded animal. I don't know exactly what he said; I blocked it out, even at the time. All I remember is one phrase, repeated over and over: "How dare you? How dare you?" I wanted to scream back, but I just looked into the distance, keeping my face perfectly blank, wearing that vacant stare that served me so well when we first met.

The moment passed. Nooj retrieved his gun, I picked up my camera, the guys restocked with bullets, and we moved on, completely silent. He wouldn't look at me. The others couldn't look away from him.

As I write this, we're camped for the afternoon. Gippal found water, somehow, a few hours ago. We drank, then replenished our supplies a little before moving on. Now he's outside with Nooj, presumably tending to the machina. Baralai and I are in the tent. I'm leaning back against him as he sits behind me, propping me up, his arms lightly wrapped around my shoulders. He's giving me strength just by being here, and I'm so grateful. I'd probably have dissolved into a helpless mess otherwise. But I'm still shivering, despite the heat. I don't know if I'll ever be truly warm again.

xxxxxxxxx

Baralai insisted that I talk to Nooj, so I did. I don't know whether either of us got anything out of it. I tried to explain myself, but it all came out wrong; I just can't think clearly about this yet. I also told him about the clues he had given me by talking in his sleep, and a look of terror flashed across his face before it was quickly replaced by a stony mask. He said that it was all right, that we could continue as we have been, but I don't believe him. How could this not change everything?

Then he asked me to leave him. I would have gone anyway -- everything about his body language said go away, and I'm not sure I would have wanted to stay if he'd asked me to. Part of me wants to go back there, to take him in my arms and stroke his hair and kiss him hard. But part of me never wants to touch or even see him ever again.

I need sleep. Although what I really want to do right now is cry. I haven't cried since I was eleven, but today I can feel the tears prickling at the back of my eyes. And I don't dare let them fall, because I can't spare the water.

I hate this. And I want to hate him for putting me through it. But I can't.

197S9.9.18

The last two days have been a blur. We walk through the shifting sands, fighting fiends when we can't avoid them, stopping for water when Gippal scents it (that would be the most extraordinary thing I'd ever seen, if only I could summon the energy to care), taking rest breaks and making camp in near silence. My sunburns are worse, the pain keeping me from real sleep. Baralai rubs me down with a cooling salve every time we stop, and then the sunscreen before we start moving; it helps, but not enough.

Nooj still isn't really speaking to me, which is just as well because if he did I'm afraid of what I might say. _Taydrcaagan_ -- that's what Gippal called him. I may start using that word instead of Deathseeker. Having to run it through a mental translator softens it, makes it seem less immediate. But then maybe I need it to be immediate, if I'm going to break away from him.

Oh hell, it hurts to even write that, like the pen has become a knife and then been driven through my heart. How can I give him up? It hasn't even been a month, but he's already become a part of me.

But if he dies, I'll lose him anyway.

Should I stop worrying and just try to get the most out of whatever time we have left? It's not as though he couldn't die regardless, even if he weren't actively seeking it out. People can be snatched from our lives at any moment. No one knows that better than I do.

But knowing, knowing, that he's longing to be dead and that my presence in his life doesn't matter-- I can't even describe how deeply that hurts me, how it twists that knife. Can I live with that knowledge, that pain? Will every caress feel like a blow? I wish I knew.

According to Baralai's reading of the stars and Nooj's sharp ears picking up the sounds of other teams, we're getting close to our destination, might even be there tomorrow. I sincerely hope so. This trial can't be over soon enough.


	11. Chapter 11

**One More Confessional**

**Part Eleven**

197S9.9.18

I don't know why we're even arguing about this. Baralai's life is at stake here, and all the guys can do is yap about honor. What is there to discuss? Evil or not, those pistols are his only option.

We'd been hearing another team for a couple of hours when Gippal dragged us all to this cave, which contains a cold freshwater spring. It was like discovering paradise, but I only had time to splash a single handful on my face before I heard gunshots from behind us.

It was Squadron Three, back to harass us again. We fought back, and won, although Baralai took a nasty shot to his hip. One on the other side is dead; coincidentally, it's the guy who tried to feel me up on the boat. I can't say that I'm too sorry.

But then, their bastard captain decided to blame Baralai for the death of his man and challenged him to a duel. And the idiot boy accepted! What in the name of the fayth was he thinking? He's wounded, the captain outweighs him by at least a hundred pounds, and the death of the other wasn't even his fault! I don't know who fired the actual killing shot, but there's no way it was Baralai -- he was in entirely the wrong area of the field. Unfortunately, I was in the thick of the fight, so I didn't have the opportunity to record any of it, and I highly doubt the other squad's recorder will help us out; I wouldn't, in his place. So it's the captain's word against ours.

Baralai wants to fight with his staff or bare hands. If he weren't hurt, sure -- the captain doesn't seem like the type to be trained in hand-to-hand, and Baralai's skills in that area are some of the best I've ever seen. But he is hurt, and badly. The bullet went deep, damaging muscle. He can barely walk, much less participate in solo combat. Gippal suggested using the rigged guns first, but if he hadn't, I would have. But Baralai is whining about his honor, and from the look on his face I think Nooj agrees. Naturally.

Gippal is trying to talk sense into Baralai now, so far without much success. Once the salve I just made has finished setting, I'll go work on his wound some more and see if I can't sweet-talk him into going along with it. Maybe bearing pain medication will give me a little more pull.

Fayth, is every man I know more concerned about his honor than his life? At least Gippal has some sense.

xxxxxxxxx

Gippal and I both did our best to be persuasive, but Nooj changed his mind and was the deciding factor in the end. Baralai might be willing to argue with us, but not with Nooj. He used the pistols.

While we were in discussion, two more squads showed up, One and Two. It turns out that half the people here, including the Squad Three captain, know Nooj by reputation. The captain gladly let him set the ground rules for the duel and hold the pistol box, which enabled him to get Baralai the unaltered weapon without anything looking fishy. To help with appearances, I turned on my camera to "record" the proceedings, but the sphere I used was an old dud. I've already checked, and it didn't capture anything; it's just static. Getting the sphere from Squad Three's recorder will be a bit of a challenge, but I think I'm up for it. If he marks it the way he's supposed to, it should be easy enough to lift the right one and slip another dud in its place. I'm glad I saved a few bad recordings.

Anyway, it came off without a hitch. Baralai got the safe gun. The captain fired the altered one and died almost instantly. Gippal grabbed both weapons and immediately hid them -- I don't know where and I don't want to. In a case like this, it's always safest to have as little information as possible.

When it was over, we finally got to immerse ourselves in that spring. It is so glorious to be clean and not thirsty. The cold water felt wonderful on my burned skin. Nooj stayed in there a long time, and when he came out he still looked pensive. Does he feel it was dishonorable to let Baralai use the treacherous weapons? Would he really have been willing to sacrifice life for honor? Is that what it means to be a Deathseeker? Does Nooj feel some stain on his honor so deep that only his death can wash it clean? How could something so vague as honor be worth dying for? It's so stupid!

All right. Deep down, I know that's not really fair. Nooj isn't like the warrior monks in Kilika, mouthing words about honor and then just doing whatever the hell he wants. It's a serious business to him. But to apply such strict rules when someone you care about is in danger, to elevate some abstract code to greater importance than life itself? No, I can't comprehend it.

Of course, in the end, he didn't allow Baralai's death to preserve his honor -- either of their honor. So maybe he's not as incomprehensible as all that, after all.

Ugh, all questions, no answers, and I'm not coming to any conclusions tonight. It's late, I should get some rest. Maybe I'll actually manage to relax enough to sleep. Perverse as it sounds, I think today's excitement was good for me, despite the danger to Baralai and the risk we took -- it gave my mind something else to focus on, kept me from obsessing over what happened in the desert. We'll see.

xxxxxxxxx

Nooj came to me a few minutes ago and invited me to share his bed tonight. His tone was hesitant, his posture almost nervous, as if he were concerned that my answer might be no. I've never seen him so tentative, about anything. I wonder if he's feeling guilty for turning on me as viciously as he did, if he realizes just how badly he hurt me.

I'm not convinced that sleeping with him is a good idea, given how mixed my feelings towards him still are. But I've missed him desperately these last few nights. So I accepted right away, not giving myself time to overthink it. I need to know if I can be with him again, and this may be the only way to find out.

197S9.9.19

Spending last night wrapped in Nooj's arms was exactly what I needed. His touch soothed me, allowed me to believe that he's really and truly still alive. There was an unusual intensity to our joining last night, an urgency to his need that I haven't felt before, and I couldn't help but respond in kind -- we fell on one another in a near frenzy and both collapsed into sleep almost immediately afterward. Although maybe the urgency was mine, too, born of the awareness that this could be the last time we are together like this, if he finds his death before our next opportunity.

I'll have to do my best not to think about that. Well, that's probably impossible, so at the very least I need to not brood. This is the reality of Nooj. If I'm going to continue as his lover, I have to accept that. And I will continue. It all comes down to this: I need him far too much to leave voluntarily. For now, I'll take what he can give me and let it be enough.

But if he thinks I'm going to let him give up on his life without a fight, he's crazy. If I have to stop him again, I will. Whatever the consequences.

If he talked in his sleep last night, it either didn't wake me or I don't remember it. I'm guessing he remained silent, though -- I feel more at peace that I have in a very long time. We'll see how long that lasts; a messenger found Nooj right before we went to bed last night and informed him that the Maesters are here and want to talk to us this morning. We're heading to their tent any minute; I hope we have our stories straight.

xxxxxxxxx

What a bunch of self-righteous, pompous fools!

You would think that the recorder would be the Maesters' ideal witness -- impartial (in theory, anyway, and there's no reason for them to think otherwise in my case), able to take in the big picture and small details of a scene simultaneously, and in possession of a recording of the event that she has almost certainly watched at least once. But after I handed over the useless sphere, they had maybe five questions for me, each of which I was able to answer without conveying any actual information. I don't know whether they had no interest because I'm the recorder and so less important than the "real" soldiers or because I'm a woman, but either way they basically ignored me. Idiots. Living too long in Bevelle must rot the mind. Baralai is lucky he got out when he did.

At least I got something for my time. It's their own fault, really -- you should never store your best brandy so close to the door. I snagged one bottle with each hand, then casually passed them to Baralai as I exited the tent. Without saying a word, he hid them in his robes. If I ever end up back on the streets, I should make sure to bring him with me. We'd make an excellent team. Anyway, then I caught Nooj's eye. First he looked absolutely astonished, then impressed. I guess he didn't know about my talent for, hmm, let's call it illicit acquisition. "Stealing" is such a vulgar word.

Gippal is in there now, and it looks like he might be awhile. Time to go run my sphere-swapping errand.

xxxxxxxxx

That was much easier than I thought it would be, and not at all what I was expecting.

After I left the guys outside the Maester's camp, I went off to find the recorder for Squadron Three. I had no specific plan for switching the spheres; I figured I'd assess the situation first and then decide what approach would be best. But to my surprise, he noticed me immediately, almost as if he were waiting for me, and waved me over.

Turns out that he hated his captain, as did the other surviving member of the team and pretty much everyone else who knew the man. After the duel, he destroyed the recording and decided that, if questioned, he'd tell the Maesters he forgot to load a sphere into the camera. So much for the impartiality of recorders.

The upshot is that there are no spheres showing the event at all. That's a good thing. Very good.

xxxxxxxxx

We seem to have gotten away with it, for now at least; Gippal spun an impressive tale, and Nooj wasn't pressed for details. We're breaking out the brandy now to celebrate. Maybe it's a little early in the day for hard alcohol, but so what? Baralai is alive and mending, the Maesters' noses are tweaked, and Nooj and I are repairing that which was broken between us. Life is much improved. I can drink to that.


	12. Chapter 12

**One More Confessional**

**Part Twelve**

197S9.9.19

When will I learn that I have absolutely no tolerance for alcohol? I had the equivalent of maybe three drinks, and the next thing I know I'm waking up on the cave floor, snuggled up against the back of a softly snoring Gippal (who drank most of a bottle by himself, so he at least had a reason to pass out). I hate being such a lightweight. I might have slept all afternoon if Nooj hadn't woken me up with an invitation. This time I accepted without hesitation or internal debate.

It's blissful to have the chance to enjoy Nooj again. Even before-- before, when we camped in the desert, there was no time or privacy for more than an occasional stolen caress. Here, in a somewhat secluded nook in the back of the cave, we can rediscover one another, relearn the exact ways in which our bodies fit together. It's just like it used to be. Better, even.

One balm has been lost to me, though, maybe forever: that of forgetfulness. When he buries his hands in my hair and sighs with contentment, when he enters me and his eyes light up at my gasp of pleasure, when he finds his release and shudders in my arms, he seems so alive, so vital, that I can distance myself from his desire for death. But I can never put it out of my mind completely, the nagging feeling that he would desert me for oblivion without a second thought. It's always there, always between us, a dark shadow that I can't banish.

We haven't talked about it, by silent mutual consent. It's better that way; I doubt we'll ever be able to discuss the subject rationally. How could we?

xxxxxxxxx

I was curious whether the Squad Three recorder had ever been questioned, or if the Maesters were just as disinterested in him as they had been in me, so I went wandering through the camp to find him. It turns out that the Maesters asked for his sphere, seemed displeased that there wasn't one, and then proceeded to grill him, not just about the duel, but about everything that happened afterwards. From what he said, and from the bits I picked up eavesdropping on my way from the cave and back, it seems that the Maesters are very interested in what happened to the pistols. So interested, in fact, that they've questioned everyone who was at the duel at least once and have one team surreptitiously searching for them. Naturally, everyone else is looking, too.

I hope Gippal hid them well.

When I returned to the cave, everyone was exactly as I had left them: Nooj resting on his rock -- there's an outcropping from the cave wall that makes a perfect perch for him -- Baralai working with his plants, and Gippal sleeping off the brandy. I reported my gleanings to Nooj and then sat with Baralai, watching him work. He wouldn't tell me what he was making; a surprise for Nooj, he said. I hope it's a seasickness remedy. I don't know if any of us could take a repeat of the last boat ride. As usual, we got to chatting. I think he's still upset about the way the duel went down and grumpy about being continually questioned by the Maesters, so I tried to tease him out of his mood by gentle prodding about Gippal. Then I caught him in a blatant exaggeration -- he's not the only one here who's slept with an Al Bhed, after all -- and playfully tackled him. After a thoroughly satisfying wrestle, we found ourselves swapping more tall tales. Gippal woke up somewhere in there and joined in. Somehow, it evolved into a game, where we would attack anyone we caught telling the truth.

It's funny, how much more I can reveal about myself when I can pretend it's all stories. They noticed a few of the truths I slipped in there -- the fact that my father was a warrior monk in Kilika, for one, and the story of the time I sneaked into the Cloister of Trials. But I got away with telling them that I first killed a man at the age of eleven. I probably wouldn't believe that one either, if it weren't my life.

And then something weird happened. Gippal, possibly still feeling the effects of the brandy, launched into a long, emotional, and poetic description of Home. He made it sound like a machina paradise, an oasis of steel in the desert. Baralai was completely enthralled. Such longing in his voice, the same sadness I remember from when Berrick told a similar story -- I could almost believe that he was describing an ancestral legend, a fairy tale.

Except that I knew he wasn't. It's all true; it has to be. But I'm not supposed to know that. And I got more and more uncomfortable with my knowledge. I think maybe he noticed, because he started looking at me funny.

I forced a smile, called him a liar, and jumped him. He was way too drunk to fight back effectively, but he laughed, and the mood lightened again.

Then I noticed Nooj, looking thoughtful on his perch -- he'd left some time before, and I'd been so engrossed in the game that I hadn't seen his return. His expression was odd, a little bit wistful with a touch of fondness. Then his features tightened, and he turned away. I wonder what that was about.

xxxxxxxxx

The final two teams are here, and they're in bad shape. Out of eight people, only three remain. I know one of them. He's one of the other recorders who came from Luca, now the only surviving member of Squad Four. I never much liked Dani ; he hung out with the Goers and was every bit as arrogant and obnoxious as the worst of the players. But I feel for him now, sitting on the sand, hugging himself, rocking and crying, apparently oblivious to everyone and everything around him. No one deserves whatever must have happened to him out there. I tried to talk with him, soothe him, but he's so far gone, I don't think he even recognized me. I hope Baralai can do something for him, get him to sleep at the very least.

Who takes human life and treats it this callously? The Maesters of Yevon. I don't know why I expected anything different.

I appear to be the only woman still alive. Not that I thought much of the other women on the boat with us, but it's still a sobering thought. Really, everyone else is so much worse off than we are, even the teams that are intact. I thought we had trouble out there, but looking around, I can see that we came through the ordeal the most easily by far. Nooj gets a lot of the credit, of course, for pushing us so relentlessly, but I don't know if we would have made it without Gippal finding water for us. And when I look at anyone with even vaguely fair skin and see how badly burned they are, I am inspired for the first time in five years to thank Yevon for something, in the guise of Baralai and his sunscreen. I owe them all my life. And what did I do in return? Fight in a few battles and lug around a camera? What good was I?

Well, I guess I saved the life of the captain. That must count for something.

Speaking of whom, he's heading off to the Maesters to let them know that we plan to leave tonight and finish the last leg of this ill-fated journey. I'm watching him go right now, and he's moving so slowly and carefully. Not everyone would notice a difference, but it's obvious to me. It can't be the leg mechanism, Gippal cleaned it out from our last day in the sands already, so it must be something else. It reminds me of nothing so much as the old arthritic priest at Kilika, who walked just like that on rainy days when his joints pained-- Pain. Of course, it must be. That explains the tightness around his eyes and mouth that I've been noticing lately, and perhaps also that wince I wondered at earlier. And if he's showing even that much on his face and in his gait, he must be in sheer agony.

I wonder if Baralai could make a painkiller. And I wonder if we could get Nooj to take it. There must be a way. I'll go talk to Baralai right now, before Nooj gets back.


	13. Chapter 13

**One More Confessional**

**Part Thirteen**

197S9.9.19

Looks like the Maesters want us to stay one more day. They said they want all of us to travel together, but I'd bet they're really afraid to let Squadron Five out of their sight in case the pistols go with us. Those fools have such one-track minds. Another day of rest and unlimited water will do us good, I suppose, but I was so looking forward to getting out of this desert hell. I miss the ocean. I've never been away from it for this long before.

Baralai was way ahead of me on the painkillers. Being a Healer probably puts him more in tune with that sort of thing. He'd already made up a whole batch of capsules; he gave me two of them, along with a seasickness remedy. Plus, he handed me a large stock of sunscreen and burn salve. He's been a busy boy. Maybe he's working this hard in order to take his mind off his compromised honor. I still don't pretend to understand all that, but it's clearly important to him, so I'll let it be.

When Nooj came back with the news that we were staying put tonight, he opened up the cave to the other candidates, to give them access to the water. I guess that means we're giving up on competing for resources. That's more of a relief than anything else; I was getting uncomfortable with being so much better off than the others. Anyway, when he returned, I was waiting for him, sitting on the ground next to his rock. It took a minute for him to notice the capsules in my outstretched hand. I told him they were from Baralai and then said no more; when he asked what they were for, I shrugged. I knew he would never accept them if he realized that he had given away his suffering -- stubborn pride taken almost to the point of idiocy, that's Nooj. Anyway, he took them from my hand, looked at me, then met Baralai's gaze from the other side of the cave. I don't know what was communicated between them during that long moment, but Nooj must have seen something that convinced him. He swallowed the pills.

Not fifteen minutes later, I felt his body, so tight and tense next to mine, begin to relax as the painkiller worked its magic. Baralai kept throwing me casual glances; when I was sure, I caught his eye and nodded. He smiled, then went back to the dice game he was playing with Gippal. Nooj looked down at me, equal parts relief and surprise on his face. Then we sat together there in pleasant silence until bedtime, my head resting against his leg, his hand curled around the back of my neck, watching our broken comrades visit the spring.

197S9.9.20

Fayth, this is dull. I am so, so restless. Another day with too much time to sit around and think is really not what I needed.

Nooj is going to go check on the condition of all the other recruits; I think I'll join him if he doesn't mind. Baralai is still messing with his herbs and Gippal is napping again -- how much sleep can one person possibly need? -- so there's nothing to do in here.

xxxxxxxxx

That was ugly. Everyone seems better rested, but they're still all filthy and half of them are totally wrecked -- mentally, physically, or both. Nooj looks completely disgusted at their condition, and I have to agree. It's a far cry from the order of the Crusaders. Baralai's going to have his work cut out for him. It makes me so angry, thinking about all he's had to do by himself, never mind everything yet to come. The Maesters know healing magic; why don't they spend a few hours out here, helping clean up this mess of their own making, instead of sitting on their asses in the tent, interrogating people about an event they didn't even witness? Do they want their recruits broken and dying?

To say that the whole thing makes no sense is a gross understatement. What possible purpose could this exercise have had? This was no training mission; we're the only group who got any real training, and only because we took it upon ourselves to teach each other. This is more like some sort of brutal winner-take-all survival game. For what reason are seven people dead and many more likely to follow? For glory, for the fight against Sin, for the people of Spira? No, for some secret and undoubtedly poisonous plot of Yevon.

Okay, I can't think about this anymore, not if I want to remain calm. Wouldn't do to work myself into a such a state that I end up breaking into the Maesters' tent tonight and killing them while they sleep.

I checked in on Dani; he's still crying and shows no signs of being able to pull himself together any time soon. The Squadron Three recorder -- I still haven't caught his name -- has taken responsibility for him, so at least someone is keeping an eye out, making sure he gets enough water to replace all he's losing to tears. I wonder if we'll ever know what happened to him out there.

xxxxxxxxx

The battered and bruised have once again been tended to; Baralai and I made the rounds one last time this evening with his herbal remedies and magic, although he saved the latter for only the most dire cases, like sending Dani to sleep. Now it's time to pack up and make ready for the final leg of our journey across Bikanel. Tomorrow night, we'll be on the beach, and the day after that is the boat. Baralai has instructed me in the proper method of dosing Nooj with the seasickness remedy and given me the rest of the painkillers to dispense as I see fit. I can't wait to see how Nooj deals with having to take orders from me for a change.

Nooj-- something is happening there. I can't even begin to describe it properly. All I know is that our connection, shattered so badly in the desert, seems to be mending, stronger and deeper than it was before. Whenever we aren't otherwise occupied, we are together, saying little, each simply relishing the presence of the other. He rarely reaches out to me, but he doesn't need to -- he just looks at me, and my heart turns over in a lazy somersault of happiness.

But I can't be near him without touching him. It's practically a compulsion, these constant pats and small caresses, reassuring me that he is still there, still alive, not gone yet. I'll rest my hand on his back, or his shoulder, or his arm -- machina or flesh, it makes no difference to me; it's all Nooj. Is it strange that I should feel the same tingling in my palms whether I'm brushing against the warm muscle of his right thigh or the cool metal of his left? I used to think so, but I've gotten used to it now.

Words have never been the best means of communication between us. So I touch him instead, to show him that I am here and that I am his. And that I love him.

Because I do love him. I can't deny that anymore. Not to myself, anyway. I can't bring myself to tell him, though; I'm petrified of what he might say. What if he doesn't return my feelings? Even worse, what if he does, and it's still not enough to tie him to life, to keep him with me? I don't think I could take knowing that. So I'll stay silent. It's safer that way.


	14. Chapter 14

**One More Confessional**

**Part Fourteen**

197S9.9.20

I should probably change the date, I'm sure it's after midnight. But I don't like putting a new date on an entry until I've had a full night's sleep and the sun has risen. We've gone to bed, but I haven't slept yet. Nooj is asleep, though, lying on his back as he always does -- I doubt any other position would be comfortable with the heavy machina limbs in the way. It's dark enough that I can only really see an outline, a shadow, but he seems completely relaxed, and thinking about everything we just did to put him in this state makes me want to wake him up and start all over again. I won't, though; it's rare that I get to observe him at peace.

I need to get some sleep myself, but I wanted to take this moment to watch him unobserved first, to memorize what I can of his sleeping form. There was something about the way he was looking at me tonight, an intensity in his eyes, that I want to make sure I remember. Besides, who knows when or even if I'll have another chance to take him in like this. Tomorrow, we break camp, heading for the boat and then points unknown. I know I've said before just how eager I am to leave this desert, but now that we're really going, I'm strangely reluctant to move forward. This place is safe. When we're back out in the world, he may find his opportunity--

I can't. I can't write it.

I don't want to think it either, but now that I have I can't think about anything else. Dammit.

No. This is not a night for despair. It was too perfect, neither of us holding back in our passion; I don't want to dwell on anything that will taint the memory of it. Every night, I decide that we have reached the highest peak possible, that it can never possibly be better than that. The next night, I am always proven wrong.

I can worry about the future in the morning. It looks like Nooj may be stirring; he will make an excellent distraction from my fears. Even if he is also the cause of them.

197S9.9.21

Fiend-damned Maesters. I wish they would make up their minds. Stay, go, prepare to leave, wait some more-- I don't know how much more of this I can take. They called Baralai in again, and they questioned Nooj a second time first thing this morning.

In hopes of figuring out what's going on, I took a casual turn around their tent a few minutes ago and heard them arguing loudly about whether to spend more time looking for the pistols. One of the Maesters, the fat one, seems desperate to get them back, while the other, the part-Guado with the oily voice, is urging him to give up and move on -- he kept saying something about a schedule and a plan. They didn't sound very happy with each other. Nooj seemed particularly pleased to hear that part of my report.

Once we do move, Nooj is going to be in charge of the entire operation. About time someone recognized that he's the only person here with even a clue of how to lead a military force. He's asked me to take the front with him, and I accepted the honor with pleasure. No one specifically told me to record today -- they're still ignoring me pretty completely, might as well take advantage of it -- and I would love nothing better than to fight at his side. I think I'm going to pull out my sword for the occasion. I have missed it so.

xxxxxxxxx

This, this is how battle should be: my rifle holstered over my shoulder, my sword on my back, that damned camera buried in the bottom of my bag, fighting at the right hand of our leader, my captain, Nooj. Nooj the Undying, Nooj the Deathseeker, Nooj the love of my life is in command of this army. A small, rag-tag, broken army, but an army nonetheless. Supported by his two trusted lieutenants, by Gippal's energy and unwavering loyalty and by Baralai's quiet strength and keen mind, he could do anything. Seeing the three of them sitting together on a large boulder, in animated discussion of our next move as we prepare to break this rest, I am suddenly seized by a vision: a vision of Squadron Five, lead by Nooj, turning the army around and leading it in battle against the Maesters and their servants who dog our steps, hiding behind a curtain of spells, and exterminating them like the vermin they are. And then moving onward, calling others to join us as we move against Yevon -- the Crusaders, whatever else remains of the Crimson Squad, legions of Al Bhed, drawing even from the ranks of the warrior monks, many of whom are just as disillusioned with the Maesters and their secrets and their treachery as anyone else. We would form a righteous invading force lead by the greatest military mind Spira has ever known, sweep into Bevelle and raze the temple, striking a death blow to the black heart of Yevon and thereby freeing my world from the evil that has enslaved it for too long.

Pure fantasy? Oh, probably. But it's my fantasy, and I like it. And if anyone could make it real, it's Nooj. The Crusaders, at least, would follow him into hell if he asked it of them. And so would I.

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The beach, at last! We had to clear out a nest of fiends to take it, mostly the flying eye types and some odd snake-like beasts. The four of us took care of them all. The fliers were too fast for me to hit with a sword, so Baralai knocked them down with his staff and I smashed them underfoot or with the butt of my gun; messy, but very satisfying. Gippal and Nooj killed the serpent creatures by decapitating them with knives, and I saw Nooj twist off a few heads with his machina hand, laughing as he did so. I don't think I'd ever heard him laugh before. The occasional snort or abrupt chuckle, yes, but an out-and-out laugh, his head thrown back in pleasure? No. It's a rich, musical sound, like the peal of a large bell, and it was utterly infectious. By the time we had killed all the fiends, we were all laughing, and we ran into the ocean together as much for the pure joy of being surrounded by water as to wash off the blood and ichor, splashing each other and wrestling in the surf. Nooj even whisked me into an embrace, in full view of the others, for the first time in my memory. For a moment I even thought he might kiss me. Then he dunked me in the waves instead, and I laughed even harder.

It was glorious.

Now the sun is setting. Our clothes are drying, and the campfire is burning merrily. The others have pitched their tents. Baralai is checking on the damaged -- he's taken on Dani as something of a personal project, so he's probably with him. I hope he's able to do something for the poor guy. Then he had better get some rest; he's been running himself ragged for days playing nursemaid to the entire camp. I help as much as I can, but I'm not a healer, so there's only so much I can do. I hope Gippal is taking care of him. I'm not sure where Gippal is, actually; hunting dinner, maybe. Nooj is sitting on the beach. There are no boulders here, but there are trees -- I never thought I would be so happy to see a tree -- so he's found a fallen log to rest on. A little while ago, I gave him the first dose of the seasickness remedy. He gagged on the capsule, complaining of its size. I couldn't help but laugh at him -- it's not that much bigger than the painkillers. He's probably just irritated at the idea of being dependent on them, and on me to hand them out; I've taken control of the supply, along with the pain capsules. I made him take one of those as well. His jaw was slightly clenched and his movements careful, both hints that he's starting to ache. Better to catch the pain early, before he ends up in agony like before. Overall, though, he still seems more content than I've ever seen him outside of our sleeping places. It seems a day of good clean battle did him good. I know it worked wonders for me.

I gathered a bunch of seaweed along with a few gull eggs, all for dinner. I thought about trying to catch some fish, too, but I don't have any of the right equipment. So I'm just sitting here, breathing in the cool salt air, listening to the splash of waves. Living all my life in Kilika and Luca meant that the ocean was always there, both the smell and the sound. It never occurred to me that I would miss it being in the background. But I really did. The desert was just too quiet. Yeah, whatever comes next, it will be a real relief to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Maybe the desert was driving us all a little mad -- the heat, the blinding sun, the sameness of the dunes. If we hadn't found that cave when we did, gotten that respite, I don't know that we'd have made it.

Time to carry the seaweed back to camp. This is way more than we can eat tonight. Way, way more. I bet these plants would make a more comfortable bed than sand does. I wonder if Nooj will help me test that theory?

I suspect that he will.


	15. Chapter 15

**One More Confessional**

**Part Fifteen**

197S9.9.22

On the boat at last. In the end, they rushed us on -- the beach was being overrun by fiends again. It would have been easy enough to take them out, but of course now the Maesters decide that they're in a big hurry. So here we are.

Baralai got the more damaged ones settled in the cabins, including Dani, who is still in shock. He seems a little calmer, at least, but I don't think he's ever really going to snap out of it. It's worrisome, actually -- what the hell do the Maesters think they'll be able to do with him?

Something intriguing happened last night. I was cleaning up after dinner -- not that I do that every night; the three of us rotate. It just happened to be my turn. Anyway, I was minding my own business and dousing the cookfire, when I suddenly had to duck a sharp chip of fiend tooth flying at my face. Gippal threw me an apologetic look from where he was working the teeth of the sandworm he caught yesterday. Naturally, I asked him what he was doing. He tried to be evasive at first, but eventually he admitted that the traditional knife he's making is a gift for Baralai.

Now, I am not a girly girl. Not even remotely. Never have been. But maybe this being in love thing is making me soft, because I thought that was the cutest thing I'd ever heard, and I sighed a little. Gippal rolled his eye at me, but it's true. What a gesture; Baralai is going to adore it. Especially if Gippal engraves it like I suggested.

It got me to thinking a bit, though. Baralai's never come out and said so, but it's clear to me that he really cares about Gippal. But I haven't seen the signs of that in Gippal so much -- he strikes me as the kind of guy who's really casual about who he sleeps with, a love 'em and leave 'em type. Now I wonder if I was wrong about that. Maybe he's got real feelings for Baralai. I kind of hope so; Baralai deserves some happiness. Then again, how will he feel if the Maesters split them up once they get their final assignments?

Now there's something I've been really good at not thinking about. Or at least at pretending not to think about.

The boat just launched! I think I'll go up on deck and watch for awhile. I do love ships. With luck, I'll actually get to enjoy the trip this time.

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So far, so good: this voyage has been far more pleasant than the last. The ocean is calm, there are fewer people stinking up the hold, we mostly have the upper deck to ourselves, and no one has tried to proposition me yet. Not that most of these men are in any shape to try anything. But even if they were, they wouldn't dare. Whether it was his intention or not, Nooj made sure of that when he placed me by his side on the march. It was as clear a claim on me as anything could have been.

But most importantly, the seasickness pills are working. I don't know how we're ever going to be able to repay Baralai for everything he's done, for all of us. Nooj takes the capsules mostly without complaint, although he still bitches a little about how big he thinks they are. So far, I've restrained myself from making a crude joke about how I've never complained about the size of-- certain other things, but if he keeps this up, I may not be able to resist.

I've given him his afternoon dose, along with a painkiller. Then he promptly disappeared, I don't know where. Baralai is hanging out on the aft deck with his herbals; I'll go see if he needs any help. It's a nice spot to watch the ocean from, anyway.

xxxxxxxxx

The others are all at rest for the night. Baralai and I passed out the last round of herbals already, helping those we could and trying not to worry over those we couldn't. At least it seems unlikely that anyone will die tonight.

Now I have nothing to do, and as usual my mind has turned to the subjects I spend so much effort ignoring during the day. When I get into these moods, I always tell myself that I will worry about tomorrow when it comes, but it never seems to work that way. I wish I weren't quite so prone to brooding.

What happens next, when the boat gets to wherever it's going and we get our new assignments? No, they get their new assignments. I'm not really a part of this force, regardless of how my teammates have treated me. I may be more deserving of a Crusader command than anyone here who isn't a member of Squad Five, but that doesn't mean I'm going to get one. As far as the Maesters are concerned, I'm just a recorder. Will they take my spheres, pat me on the head and thank me for my services, and then send me back to Luca? Fayth, if I was bored as a blitz recorder before--

I suppose I could join up with the Crusaders as a regular soldier. I'd probably rise through the ranks quickly enough. But I'm not sure I want to fight under Yevon's banner. Is there any place in Spira for a warrior who refuses to even pay lip service to the Maesters? Maybe with the Al Bhed, but that probably means Bikanel, and I can't see myself going back there voluntarily. Not right now, anyway. Besides, I don't know if they'd even accept an outsider.

And then there's Nooj. I can't imagine being parted from him. Well, not by anything other than his death. That I can imagine all too-- Stop that, right now. 

Anyway, if I did join the Crusaders, could he request me as a member of his company? Would he even want to? It wouldn't be very professional, it's true, a commander arranging things such that his lover reports to him. Although I'm sure it wouldn't be the first time.

I haven't the faintest idea of how I would even broach the subject with him.

Of course, in a perfect world, all four of us would find a way to stay together. It's actually almost as hard for me to think about having Baralai and Gippal taken away as it is to consider losing Nooj. Plus, we all work so amazingly well together. How did that happen, anyway? An enormous stroke of luck? Or was it fate? I don't tend to believe in fate; it's been a long time since I've credited any mysterious supernatural force. But with this evidence before me, I might have to change my mind. The Maesters would be fools to break our team apart. Not that foolishness has ever stopped them before.

So many possibilities, so few that I actually would choose. And I can't do anything about any of it! It drives me crazy, knowing that my future may be completely out of my hands.

Ugh, no more thinking. I'm just going to depress myself. The boys are up on deck -- I just saw them heading up there, dressed and dried off after their evening swim. When they passed, they suggested that I join them. I think I'll do just that. Maybe I'll even bring the camera. Not for the Maesters, though -- for me. If they do split us up, I'd like to have something to remember them by. Nooj is down here, talking into his little voice recorder. I need to give him his evening medications before I do anything else. Then I'll drag him to the deck, whether he wants to chat with us or not. I need to stand at the rail with him, breathing in the night air and looking at the stars. I savor quiet moments like that, and who knows how many more of them we'll get?


	16. Chapter 16

**One More Confessional**

**Part Sixteen**

197S9.9.23

One of the priests in the Maesters' entourage is missing. I wonder which one of them did it? Nooj, probably, although I wouldn't put it past Gippal, either, if he had the opportunity. Baralai -- well, maybe. If he were sufficiently provoked. A week ago I would have said no, but he's so upset about the condition of the other candidates, and I know he blames the Maesters and their underlings. However it happened, I won't shed any tears for the man. It's not a fair trade for the seven bodies buried within the sands of Bikanel and the broken spirits that haunt them, but it's a start.

Whether he took vengeance last night or not, Nooj is in an amazingly good mood today. I got up early to stand at the rail and watch the sunrise this morning. I'd been there for some time when Nooj came up behind me, placing an arm on either side of me and nestling against my back, his right hand running up and down my arm. Then, without warning, he leaned down and licked my left shoulder! I laughed, completely involuntarily, and then could not resist turning around to kiss him, not caring who saw, tasting the salt on his lips. The encounter was undeniably pleasant, but it was so unlike what I have known of him so far. It was -- and I never thought I would use this word to describe Nooj, but it's really the only thing to say -- adorable.

Yesterday evening was so enjoyable. The four of us hung out on the deck, chattering about all manner of things. Even Nooj joined in the conversation from time to time. Gippal -- who finally demanded his chance to run the sphere camera; about time. He said it's because he doesn't want to be filmed in the silly dress uniform he's wearing while his clothes dry, but he's been eyeing it since the day we met. I'll be lucky if he didn't take it apart -- anyway, he told us all about an airship that the Al Bhed discovered recently and are restoring to working condition. At first I accused him of playing the game of lies again, but he assured me that it's true. How exciting! If I feel this free riding around on the ocean, I can only imagine how glorious it would be to fly above it. Just thinking about it gives me chills. I bet I could learn how to pilot an airship. How hard can it be?

That lead to the question of what everyone else would do if we all flew an airship together. Gippal claimed the engineer role, of course, and then Baralai decided he would navigate -- also sensible, given his experience at reading the stars. Then we all turned to Nooj, who just shook his head and refused to play along. The answer was clear, though, and we all knew it. I couldn't resist laying a hand on his arm and proclaiming him captain.

I don't know if the guys caught my tone, but Nooj certainly did -- I could see him remembering the last time I'd called him that.

Anyway, Gippal and Baralai agreed enthusiastically, promising that all he would have to do is stand around and look important. He rolled his eyes and warned us that he'd work us to the bone. We all laughed, mostly because we know the truth of that, too, and the conversation moved on.

Or at least their conversation moved on. Not ten minutes later, Nooj was leading me to a secluded area at the stern of the ship, where he proceeded to remind me exactly who my captain is. This particular game was invented the night I started replying to all his requests with the words "aye, captain"; it drove both of us wild. There's something so appealing about letting him take charge and being carried away by his passion.

It doesn't always work that way, of course. Sometimes I get to be captain. Secretly, I think he likes that even better.

xxxxxxxxx

There's a serious rumor running wild on the ship. Supposedly, the Crusaders are joining forces with the Al Bhed in an attempt to wipe out Sin with some bad-ass new machina. I really don't know what to think. Clearly, the fact that we all relied on guns throughout this exercise means that Yevon is loosening its stance on machina weapons. But I can't help but be suspicious. Not that I'm ever not suspicious of Yevon, but there's something especially fishy this time. Why now? Is it coincidence that, at the exact same time, they're supposedly training an elite gun-using force to take over command of the Crusaders? Not that this force is the elite of anything, except maybe for the four of us. But still.

Well, I never pretended to be a tactician. I follow orders, and I observe. My observations are telling me to be wary of this one, but I suppose we'll have to wait and--

Why is Gippal climbing up to the crows' nest while still wearing that ridiculous uniform, one of the Maesters' underlings yelling at him from the deck? Why is Baralai watching from a safe distance and laughing his head off? And why don't I have my camera here to record the whole thing? Damn. That was definitely a scene for posterity, and I missed it!

xxxxxxxxx

Another night on the deck. I'm going to miss this so much. Even if we do manage to stick together, it'll never be quite the same.

But we are sticking together. Gippal and Baralai and I just made some decisions about the future. Our future. From our conversation over plant processing yesterday, I knew that Baralai dreams about keeping the team together just as much as I do, but I hadn't realized that Gippal's been thinking along the same lines -- he told me so when I brought up the idea. All three of us agree that we've captured something really special here, and we don't want to see it end. So we made a pact: the members of Squad Five will flat-out refuse to serve under anyone under than Nooj.

I raised my concern about officially being a recorder rather than a candidate, but the guys scoffed at that. Baralai pointed out that the Maesters are in awe of Nooj and unlikely to refuse him much. If he requests me as a soldier in his company, he'll get me. Convincing Nooj to go along might be a problem, though; he's such a military man, so conditioned to obey his superiors without question whether he likes their orders or not. Gippal asked, and I had to admit that Nooj and I have yet to discuss the possibility of trying to stay together when this is done. They looked at me with a mixture of surprise and pity. That hurt a little.

Still, I'm hopeful. Assuming we do get Nooj on board, I don't see how the Crusaders can stand against the combined wills of the four of us. We're a pretty stubborn bunch. Surviving the desert proved that.

Then we got to talking about the rumors, of course. Nooj appeared shortly thereafter, just after the sun had set, and I pulled out the camera again. I don't know why; premature nostalgia, maybe? The discussion was mostly Gippal arguing with Baralai. Naturally, the Al Bhed thinks it's a great idea and the Yevonite seems horrified. I did my best to be noncommittal, and Nooj said little. Then the conversation turned to the prospect of Sin's permanent defeat, if the plan works. The Calm -- I remember what that was like, a little. But my parents were long dead by the time it came. Too late for them. Too late for me. Anyway, the boys were joking about making big plans when Nooj interrupted, saying that he doubted that Spira without Sin could be anything other than dull.

Gippal and Baralai both laughed, clearly amused by the idea of a Deathseeker, presumably in pursuit of his own eternal peace, who thinks the Calm sounds boring. I think I know what he meant, though. There won't be too many opportunities for a glorious death in battle during an Eternal Calm. He'll want to be gone before that day comes. I put away the camera and tried to catch his eye, to show him that I understand whether I like it or not, but he wouldn't meet my gaze. He still shies away from this particular topic. That's still mostly a relief, because I know that asking wouldn't get me the answer I want. But it does hang over me, a sword waiting to fall and split me in two. Maybe it would be better to get the truth out in the open.

He may love me, or not. There's something there; it's clear, now, that I'm more than just a warm body to him. But love? I don't know. I can read him in so many other ways, but the door to his heart remains closed to me. I doubt that it really matters, though. Whatever he may feel for me, he still loves the idea of his death more. I don't think there's anything I can do to change that.

There were too many things I wanted to say, so it was easiest to simply say nothing. Instead, I joined him at the rail, and we stared out to sea together.


	17. Chapter 17

**One More Confessional**

**Part Seventeen**

197S9.9.24

Mushroom Rock Road? Mushroom Rock Road?

They put us through all that just to bring us back where we started?

Given the meaningless detour I took through Bevelle back at the beginning of this adventure, I can't say that I'm really all that surprised. Efficiency has never been Yevon's strong point. And it's been rather amusing watching everyone's reactions. Gippal fell over laughing at the absurdity of it all, and he's still leaning against the railing, chortling randomly. Baralai just looked confused, and a little tired, and he keeps throwing worried looks at his boy. As for Nooj, I thought he was going to have a heart attack when he saw Mushroom Rock rising up before us. His eyes bulged out, his hands clenched into fists, and he let out a burst of invective. I wouldn't have thought someone as reticent as Nooj would be so creative in his vulgarity. It was the foulest and most inventive stream of insults and crude language I've ever heard, and that includes the Al Bhed lessons. I couldn't help it -- his reaction was so unexpected that I found myself snickering. Then he realized what he was saying, and he shut up so quickly, and turned to me with such a sheepish apology, that I forced myself to stop laughing, even though that was if anything even funnier. He should know by now that I'm not likely to blush at a little cursing. Or even a lot of cursing.

We'll be docking in a few minutes. I wish this voyage would never end. I've never experienced a time like this -- fresh sea air and salt spray filling my senses, time spent with true friends, long nights with my love, few responsibilities and much conversation. I can't imagine much better. Even with the awkward moment last night. I wouldn't change a minute of it.

I wonder what they'll do with us now, and if our plan will work. The moment of truth is coming.

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Nooj came back with his orders. Or, more accurately, lack of orders. He's been released from his larger command and is now back in charge of us alone. Supposedly we'll learn more in the morning, although given the Maesters, I wouldn't be too surprised if we sat around for another week.

Since they don't seem to care what we do, we headed back to our old camping ground. I know this sounds ridiculous, but there's something comfortable about being here. I almost feel as though I've come home. We're probably going to hit the shooting range this afternoon, assuming it's still there. The boys are wrestling again and have been all morning. I realize that it's the safest way for them to show their affection for one another in public, but I wish they would just give it up and hold hands or kiss or something. It grows tiresome at times.

xxxxxxxxx

He wants to talk. I guess we need to, I know we need to, but I am so afraid. This almost scares me more than the specter of the sand-bear.

But he's waiting for me at the pool, and I agreed to meet him there. Best to get it over with.

xxxxxxxxx

I--

I've been sitting here with my pen hovering over the paper for several minutes because there's so much to say that I don't know where to start.

That wasn't at all what I expected. Nooj-- he said-- he told me-- I am completely incoherent. I can't gather my thoughts.

We're going down to the shooting range in a few minutes, maybe I'll be able to write sensibly when we get back.

For the moment, maybe it's enough to say that I did not know that it was possible to be so happy, to be so at peace with the world, to be so in love with someone. Everything is different now. The entire universe has changed.

xxxxxxxxx

Target practice would have gone much better if I'd been capable of paying attention to what I was doing. My thoughts were completely consumed by my meeting with Nooj, by his presence at my side. So I loaded my gun wrong, and the kickback actually knocked me on my ass. The guys laughed, and I felt like an idiot for a minute, but Nooj just smiled and helped me up, and then it didn't matter any more.

When I met him at the pool, he had already bathed, dressed, and reclaimed his old boulder. This one is a little too tall for even him to sit on, so he leans against it, just enough to take the weight off his left hip. I took a quick dip, then joined him there. Normally, I would sit at his feet, but today I was too nervous -- I would've felt like he was looming over me. So I stood next to him.

And then he took my hands in his and began to speak. His words were halting and nervous, but the things he said to me were like poetry to my ears, despite his bluntness and the occasional awkward pause. He told me how much I mean to him, how beautiful he thinks I am, how deeply he appreciates that I "put up with" (his phrase, not mine) his scars, his moods, his difficult behavior. He said that I have enriched his life and that he will miss me desperately when I leave.

When I leave? He's been expecting me to leave him? How could he have so little trust in my feelings for him?

And the scars -- I don't really notice them anymore. They're just another part of him, like the machina. Sometimes I even forget that he can't feel it when I touch the machina limbs. I don't care what he was before. I love the man he is now.

I wanted to tell him these things, but something stopped me; I could see that it was difficult for him to speak so plainly about his emotions and that he wouldn't appreciate an interruption. Soon, I will have to make sure that he knows.

But then-- he told me--

Nooj told me that I give him a reason to live, that my presence in his life has kept him from making another suicide attempt, that he would have been dead long since without me. I couldn't believe it. Part of me still can't believe it. It was exactly what I'd dreamed of hearing, what I had convinced myself couldn't possibly be true. And yet it must be true, because Nooj never says anything that is not. I couldn't look at him for a little while after that; it was just too much. I had to close my eyes and swallow hard to hold back tears.

That was the last thing he said. Completely incapable of speech for a moment, I stepped forward into his arms and wrapped my own around him, burying my face in his right shoulder. I stayed there for a long time and just held him, feeling his warmth and his life, my own emotions building up in my heart until I couldn't hold them back any longer. Finally, after I had drawn the courage I needed from him, I turned into his neck, and I said the words I had been so longing to say: "I love you."

He stiffened in shock, just for an instant, and I realized that he hadn't known, possibly hadn't even suspected. Then he relaxed with a deep sigh and tightened his arms around me, breathing my name. He dropped his face into my hair and kissed the top of my head, oh so gently.

And then I told him everything, all the truths about myself and my life that I have held back from everyone for so long. I wanted him to know me, to understand what manner of woman it is who loves him. I told him about the warrior monk father and tavern cook mother I can barely remember and about losing them in one of Sin's many attacks on Kilika Port; about being taken in as a temple orphan, where the cruel and abusive matron had no idea what to do with a girl who had more interest in swords than in dolls; about the warrior monks who adopted me as their mascot and taught me how to fight, and how some of them forgot themselves as I got older and started looking more like a woman and less like a child; about how I had learned from them too well, and how I managed to steal a sword and kill the ringleader, my body mostly intact but my spirit in tatters; about taking flight from the temple in terror for my life, stowed away aboard a boat bound for Luca, where I found a gang of other children who also had nowhere else to go; about my three years running with them on the streets, the stealing, the fighting, the companionship; about the former street kid turned Crusader who helped me get the recorder job at the stadium. All this and more came pouring out as Nooj held me, stroking my back and my hair, just listening, absorbing all that I shared with him.

When I was finished, he looked into my eyes and thanked me. For loving him, for opening my life to him. And then he knelt down before me and kissed my feet. Literally, his lips gently pressing against the top of each foot, the insteps, my toes. It was the sweetest gesture I could possibly imagine. Then he stood and undressed me, slowly and carefully, as if he were unwrapping something fragile, and laid me down on the grass. He stroked me with his eyes, with his hands, with his mouth, touching every inch of me with reverence. Then it was my turn to explore every corner of his body, attending equally to the marred and to the unmarked, merging him into an unbroken whole with my kisses and caresses. When we joined at last, mouths and eyes and bodies meeting, we melded into single being, no longer Nooj and Paine but something new and different and perfectly beautiful, with no divisions or boundaries between us, existing in a moment out of time and space.

We have mostly returned to our separate selves now, but I feel a piece of him that he left behind, fitting perfectly into the space left by the part of myself that I've given away. He looks at me with utter peace and joy on his face. I have never seen him like this, never. Not even in sleep was he this carefree, before today. It's as though I've given him another balm for pain, except this one has relieved the pain of his spirit, of his soul. Looking at him, feeling the waves of contentment that pour out of him, I can almost believe that he's changed his mind about seeking death, that he is content and even happy to live. I don't quite dare hope for that, though; it would be too much bounty. For now, it's enough to bask in our happiness. In our love.

He never said the word love, but he didn't need to. It was and is there, behind every word he does say, in the gentleness of his touch, in the softness of his expression. But in a way, it doesn't matter. Knowing that I am binding him to life is more important, far more meaningful to me than a thousand I-love-yous. It is my greatest fear relieved. I only hope he understands that.

I think I'll ask Baralai to show me how to make the painkiller the next time we have some leisure, just in case our plans fall through and we're separated. If Nooj lives for me, I owe it to him to make that life as easy as possible.

Dinner finished some time ago and my love's eyes are beckoning to me from across the fire, where Gippal has just finished tending to him. Yes; he knows that the answer is yes. I'll go make my request of Baralai and then follow their call.


	18. Chapter 18

**One More Confessional**

**Part Eighteen**

197S9.9.25

The Maesters rushed us down to the Mushroom Rock cave area first thing this morning. I suppose they think we're better off standing around waiting for our final orders in a cold, damp, dark place rather than up in the pleasant sunlight.

Nooj found us a secluded corner away from the main group. He probably thinks that I'm chronicling events since yesterday evening, but mostly I'm snuggling up to him and listening to him talk into his personal recorder. He has a lovely voice, and I so rarely get to hear it for more than a few words at a time. Just listening in would be a treat, even if he weren't saying such sweet things about me. 

He is much more eloquent when talking into the device than when talking with me. Interesting. A minute ago, he commented that he'd be happy to let me browse through the entries if I like. I find the prospect both fascinating and a little scary. I have to admit, I'm not so certain I'd let him read my journal. Even lovers need to keep a little private space in their heads.

xxxxxxxxx

Turns out I was too much of a distraction, so he kissed me soundly and then sent me back to the others so that he could finish making his notes. So now I'm with Baralai and Gippal, all of us taking these free minutes to record whatever it is we need to say. Although they keep glancing at each other, and smiling, and touching more than strictly necessary. And there's a new knife strapped to Baralai's leg -- I wonder whether Gippal ended up engraving it? I guess yesterday was special for them, too. It does my heart good to see them happy. I so hope those two can stay together, even if all four of us can't.

Everyone else seems weirdly nervous. I'm not feeling the undercurrent of excitement I would expect right before a final mission. Must be the atmosphere -- now that I don't have Nooj to warm me, I can feel just how chilly and creepy it is down here. Everyone who survived the desert is present, except for Dani. I wonder what happened to him? Did the Maesters finally see that he was completely unfit for duty? Or maybe Baralai got him away.

Baralai-- when I went to load my camera this morning I found a sheet of paper with instructions for making the painkiller tucked in my sphere bag. He must have written them out for me last night and stowed them where he knew I would find them. I haven't had the chance yet to tell him how much I appreciate that -- they rushed us down here too quickly, and I don't want to bring it up in front of everyone else. He did shoot me a look a few minutes ago, and I patted the bag and nodded. I'll need to find a chance to thank him properly. I took a look over his notes but didn't have time to read them closely; I've stored them in a more secure place for now.

Nooj and I spent last night wrapped up in one another. We didn't talk much -- we both used up most of our words earlier -- but I did take a moment to make it clear to him that I'm not going anywhere. My place is by his side and nothing can tear me away. Not Sin, not Yevon, not anything that he imagines I might find more appealing. Whatever comes next, I am his, now and forever, and I needed him to know that.

Finally, they're calling us together. Let's get this thing over with.

197S9.9.26

I'm having flashbacks to my flight from Kilika. Back then, I probably only imagined that I was being hunted by all the hounds of Yevon. Today, they really are on our heels, and we're not even sure why.

We ran all of yesterday and through the night and now we're holed up-- somewhere. We're headed in the general direction of Luca; that's all I know. No one is injured, but the guys are tired and distressed, especially Nooj, whose condition has me worried. What the hell happened to them in that cave?

The cave. They lined us up, I started recording, and the Maester repeated our orders. It was an observational mission only -- the candidates were to explore a particular cave, discover what they could, and report back. Whoever survived and presented a satisfactory report would be named to the Crimson Squad. The mission defied all logic, but we didn't have much choice in the matter; we marched in. Nooj put me behind him in the formation. He'd best not make a habit of protecting me like that, but I have to say that I'm not complaining this time. Something felt wrong about that exercise from the beginning, and I was grateful to have him as a shield. I was able to record from around his back easily enough.

Before anything else, I noticed the pyreflies. The cave was filled with them, tracing their ghostly paths and filling our ears with their eerie cries. I'd never seen so many in once place. Much like how I imagine the Farplane, except spookier. Soon the other candidates were scuffling, fighting, shouting. At first I assumed they were just competing for weapons and supplies as they'd been ordered to do, but it soon became clear that it was much darker than that: they were shooting each other. Killing each other. For no apparent reason. It was, quite frankly, terrifying.

The four of us moved away from the others by unspoken agreement. They seemed to be gripped by some sort of madness and we wanted to get as much distance from them as possible. So we went toward the back of the cave and then-- Hold on.

xxxxxxxxx

Nooj was in awful shape: shaking, his eyes unfocused and his breathing difficult, saying all kinds of distressing things into his recorder. Since I couldn't keep an eye on him and make my own notes at the same time, I took a break -- I can always refresh my memory with the sphere. He seemed so exhausted, unable to focus. At first I just made him take some water and lean against the rock wall, but it didn't really help. Finally I convinced him to take a nap. His sleep is fitful, though; he's twitching and even mumbling occasionally, something I haven't known him to do since he started taking the painkiller. Well, it's better for him than no rest at all.

All right, where was I? Right, the back of the cave. With Nooj resting, this might be a good time to watch my recording -- I'd rather not pull it out while he's alert, he's still too fragile to relive the experience.

xxxxxxxxx

It's gone.

The fiend-damned sphere is gone!

It must have fallen out of my bag as we ran, along with several of the others -- at least half a dozen are missing. Dammit. Dammit! With the guys' memories all conflicting and my own so overwhelmed by fear, that sphere was our only hope for reconstructing what really happened. And now it's lost. I can only hope that it's lying around somewhere on Mushroom Rock Road, not in the hands of the Maesters.

I'll have to rely on my memory, then. I know what I saw, but I'm not sure I really understand it.

We approached the back of the cave, where a swarm of pyreflies started concentrating itself into a-- shape. I can't explain it any better than that. It was yellowish green, but I really couldn't say what it was forming. An unsent? A fiend? Then the mass started to fly straight at Gippal. He ducked, and the swarm found the next target -- Nooj, who was standing right behind him. The pyreflies swirled around him, into him. He grabbed his head and doubled over, moaning, clearly struggling with something. I was on the verge of dropping my camera and running to his aid, but Gippal and Baralai were there before my body could turn the thought into action, both men shouting his name.

Then Nooj straightened with a perfectly blank look on his face, raised the gun he had taken from the floor, and aimed it straight at Baralai's forehead.

Baralai dropped to his knees as Gippal pulled his own weapon and pointed it at Nooj, shouting a panicked warning to drop the gun. Then Baralai got to his feet, the gun in his right hand slowly rising and aiming itself at Gippal's head. The pyreflies swarmed even more tightly, flying and dancing around all three of them. And they froze into a triangle of death, each facing into the barrel of a gun, each pointing a weapon at one of his fellows. I walked slowly around them, still working the camera, not daring to breathe.

Then they started to-- shout? Howl? Scream? I can't describe the noise that emerged from their throats, but it sounded just like the sounds that the other candidates had made right before they fired their weapons. I remember a single thought passing clearly through my mind: "They're going to kill each other!" Panic won out over terror, and I forced my way between them, yelling at them to stop.

It got through. I don't know how, I don't know why, but all it took was the sound of my voice. The guys lowered their guns with agonizing slowness. They looked around at one another in shock, and then they all collapsed.

Gippal was up first and soon followed by Baralai. Nooj was much slower to recover -- the other two needed to haul him to his feet and support him as he walked. He seemed terribly disoriented. All I could do was carry his cane as I swapped in a new sphere and kept recording. We left the cave, then took a minute to regroup and let Nooj collect himself. But they were almost immediately called on to make a report. The guys all said they saw something, though they don't seem clear on what. A person, or a giant hulking shape that growled, or maybe both. I didn't see or hear anything like they described, nor did I feel the overwhelming emotions of despair and regret they all experienced. So I stayed silent, camera running.

The head priest and warrior monks who took the report seemed disappointed, but then the priest proclaimed the mission a success and congratulated the guys on making the Crimson Squad, directing them to Maesters' tent as their first assignment. Baralai and Gippal broke into grins and started clapping each other on the back as they headed away, but Nooj barely reacted, his face blank again. It was odd, and worrisome. He started to walk off in a daze, and I put a hand on his arm to steady him, when I heard the clicking sound of rifles being cocked behind us. I turned around and--

Nooj is awake and calling my name. My recollections can wait; I need to see to him first.


	19. Chapter 19

**One More Confessional **

**Part Nineteen**

197S9.9.26

I just sat with Nooj for awhile; he's still a little out of sorts but more stable than he was. More than anything, he seems to need an anchor to reality, and I serve that purpose for him. He's finishing up his report now, and I suppose I should do the same.

Let's see. They had just reported to the priest on duty, Gippal and Baralai were headed for the command center as ordered, and Nooj was about to follow despite his unsteadiness. Then I heard the warrior monks behind us ready their weapons and prepare to fire. I whirled around and yelled out a warning as the first bullets started to fly. Gippal and Baralai didn't even need to look; they took to their heels at my shout. Nooj started after then, and I reached for his arm, to help him escape, when one of the warrior monks grabbed me from behind. I struggled, eventually working an arm free. Then I snatched the dagger that Nooj gave me from the boot where it's lived ever since, and stabbed down and back. The monk cried out and loosened his grip enough for me to get away. And I ran, leaving the weapon behind in his gut.

I'm sorry to have lost it; it was a fine little blade.

Anyway, it took me a little while to catch up, but not as long as it should have -- Nooj was faltering, his limp as bad as I'd ever seen it. Baralai had to practically carry him up the stairway. He tried to convince us to leave him, but of course none of us would hear of it. So we moved as quickly as we could, dodging bullets, taking cover where possible, putting distance between us and those warrior monks. Eventually, we got far enough away to take a breather; as soon as we stopped, Nooj started frantically asking for me, as though he couldn't see me right by his side. I responded with his name and a hand against his cheek, and he pulled me close and kissed me. There was an air of desperation to that kiss -- he was a drowning man, seeking oxygen and a lifeline, and I gave him both, projecting as much calm and reassurance as I could muster.

He was stronger after that, and we got moving again, at a steady pace. Now we're waiting out the daylight and trying to figure out what happened back there.

Gippal and Baralai differ on some of the details, but they remember basically what I do as far as the basic facts go: the three of them pointed guns at one another with every intention of pulling the triggers. But Nooj has no memory of that part whatsoever. He claims to remember nothing between the attack of the pyreflies and finding himself collapsed on the ground. And I can 't help but believe him -- he'd never admit to such a thing if it weren't true. He so hates not being in control, of anything but especially of himself; I can only imagine what a nightmare this must be for him.

Anyway, he seemed quite distressed to learn that he had pulled a gun on Baralai. The guys quickly assured him that they knew he wasn't himself in that moment, that none of them were, that they had all been taken over by some force in that cave. But I see doubt in their eyes. Especially Baralai's. He's not falling apart like Nooj was earlier, but he's not exactly doing well either. He's wearing a haunted expression, and I think he may even have been crying earlier. Ever since we stopped here, he's hovered at the edge of the clearing, not really interacting with any of us unless he has to. It's troublesome.

Gippal seems the least affected by the events of the cave -- he's subdued, of course, thoughtful, occasionally staring off into the distance, but at least he can function. He looks worried about his boy, though.

All three of them agree that they saw a male figure and felt a hulking presence of some sort that made a growling or rumbling noise. Then they were gripped by all kinds of terrible emotions -- despair, anger, fear. So strange that I escaped all that; I wonder why. Not that I'm complaining. Just looking at them when they talk about it makes me shudder.

So now we're on the run from Yevon. I should probably have known that my life would lead me back here eventually. I just wish we could make some sense of it. Why send us into that evil place? Why try to murder us when we came out? Why slaughter every recruit who came at their call? There's no reason for all this death that I can see. It's too incomprehensible for me even to be sad or upset; I can't wrap my mind around it, can't believe that what happened back there is even possible. I guess I'm in denial. Maybe it's better that way. I don't know whether I could carry on otherwise.

xxxxxxxxx

We're going to sleep out the rest of the day and then move when dusk starts falling. Just like in the desert. I understand why we have to do it, but all this switching around of sleep schedules is starting to drive me a little nuts. At least sleep should come fairly easily; after running all night, I'm exhausted.

I thought about asking Baralai to go over the painkiller instructions with me, but he's still keeping his distance. No wonder if he wants to be alone after everything he's been through; he must feel so betrayed by the Maesters, by Yevon. I think he's been drifting away from the temples anyway, but to be hunted by the very people he was raised to revere-- that's got to be terribly difficult. Hard enough for me, and I haven't worshipped them in a long time. So I'll let him be.

Gippal is oiling and tuning Nooj's machina right now. That's probably another thing I should learn how to do when I have the chance. I doubt I have the skill to repair them if anything goes wrong, but at least I can help keep them in regular working order. I seem to have chosen a complicated and high-maintenance man as my companion. I don't mind, though; he is worth it.

xxxxxxxxx

How is it that, wherever we go, no matter what the terrain or how close the quarters, Nooj always manages to find a secluded place to take me in his arms? It's a wonderful knack.

We traded our favorite intimate pleasures today. He loves the feel of my mouth on him, and I can't get enough of his deft machina fingers. As I have come to see the prosthetics as simply part of the man, their touch doesn't seem so sacrilegious anymore. But being stroked by them still excites me almost beyond bearing -- the coolness of the metal against the warmth of my skin is as maddening as ever. And then, when we are both ready and we join, the heat of him melts me and we merge into one. It's unlike anything I have ever known. I told him that once, and to my surprise he agreed with me. He's had many lovers, far more than I have, and to know that I bring him more pleasure than any other in his memory amazes me. It's almost humbling.

He looked at me so intently at times, as if he had never seen me before. Or as if he were trying to memorize me. It must be the danger we're facing -- it brings back that feeling that each time could be the last.

Afterwards, when we were curled up in each other's arms, I took the opportunity to tell him about our meeting on the boat and our decision to ask to serve together under his command. He seemed genuinely touched, but he was dismissive of the idea that it could have worked. It was a little disappointing; I'd hoped that we could get him to agree to our plan. But who knows. Maybe in the moment, faced with separation from us, he would have changed his mind.

It's all moot now, of course. There's no question of us being assigned to any Crusader company, separately or otherwise. We'll need to stick together, at least for now.

The sun has almost set, so I should probably wake him, but I'm reluctant -- I'm sure the sleep is doing him good. He looks so relaxed lying there, the fading sunlight touching his handsome face, softening the strong features. And I want him to get his rest, since he wasn't sleeping so soundly earlier. I actually woke because he was thrashing around and muttering again. That concerns me. It can't be pain like it was before; he's been taking the capsules without complaint, and I can tell that they're working. More likely it's some aftereffect of the cave. I couldn't make much sense of his mumbling, but one phrase was quite clear: "go to Bevelle." He's not planning an outright attack on Bevelle, is he? Maybe if he raised an army, but the four of us can't take on that citadel alone. I hope he puts a serious plan in place soon; we need to figure out where to go from here. Well, wherever he decides to take us, he knows we will follow. He is our captain, after all.


	20. Chapter 20

**One More Confessional****  
**

**Part Twenty **

197S9.9.27

Nooj found us a path off the main road, and our next planned stop, after we rest out the daylight, is the Mi'ihen Travel Agency. We'll get some supplies there -- we didn't have much on us when we fled Mushroom Rock Road, just weapons and a little food and water -- and then continue on to Luca. It's a sensible plan.

The going is a bit rough here; parts of the trail are old and overgrown, and we needed to help Nooj over many rocks and roots at first. The next stretch was easier. He seems stronger, too, more himself, which is such a relief. I was beginning to worry that whatever happened to him would have lasting effects. I can breathe more easily now.

Well, on Nooj's account, at least. Baralai seems more withdrawn every minute, and not even Gippal is really getting through to him. Maybe he's the one I should be concerned about. Should I go to him, let him know that no one blames him for his actions in the cave?

No, I'd better not. Gippal is the one he loves; Gippal is the one with the best chance of breaking down this wall he's thrown up around himself. I'll leave them be.

After telling us his plan to head for the Travel Agency, Nooj invited me to join him for a quick wash before bed at a stream he found. He just headed over that way, and now I will follow.

xxxxxxxxx

He has given up hunting death.

He is going to live for me.

I don't have to be afraid anymore.

Nooj, I love you. I love you so much.

xxxxxxxxx

After our dip in the brook, Nooj and I laid out together on the grass to dry, and then he reached for me and started to talk.

That's when he told me. That he is Deathseeker no longer, that my love has turned him from his quest, that he wants to live so that we can be together.

This time I couldn't help it: I grabbed him and burst into tears, my face nestled against his bare chest. Tears of relief, of happiness, of pure joy. At first he seemed concerned, stroking me and murmuring soothing words into my ear, but then he lifted my head and his face filled with wonder as he reached understanding. As our eyes met, I felt him harden against me, and suddenly I needed him with a desperation unlike anything I had ever known. Without prelude, I sheathed him and began to ride, and his frenzy soon matched my own, both of us drawing blood with nails and teeth, each driven by a need to get inside the other's skin, to become one person, a single entity, as we are meant to be. We rolled over, and his weight pressed down on me as I cried out and so did he, not caring who might hear as we were swept away by our love and by the power of life.

He is alive. And he will stay alive. For me. I have done battle with death, and I am victorious.

xxxxxxxxx

The sun is setting, and we've reached the Travel Agency. We're taking a breather before we restock; the last bit of the trek was fairly taxing, so it's nice to sit here with my back to the chocobo corral fence. The proprietor seems to be gone -- I stuck my head in a few minutes ago, and the shop was empty, so we'll have to buy our supplies later anyway. I don't know where the guys are. Nooj is standing on the bluff over there, looking out over the water, the set of his shoulders pensive. I wonder what he's planning now?

xxxxxxxxx

That idiotic, arrogant, patronizing, fiend-damned man!

I'd wondered whether the Maesters might dismiss me with a pat on the head, but I never thought that Nooj would subject me to such treatment. He wants me to stay here, to beg asylum at the damn Travel Agency while the three of them go off to overthrow Yevon. Why? Why would he do this to me? I understand the need to break up the group, that it's too dangerous for all four of us to travel together. It breaks my heart to leave Gippal and Baralai, but it's necessary. I know that. But packing me off to be a good little girl in hiding while he goes off to do who knows what? Dammit, I could help him. What happened to the Nooj who put me in the front lines as we fought our way across Bikanel? Doesn't he know I can take care of myself? Hell, I've been taking care of him lately! And he repays me by sending me away?

I will not cry, dammit I will not cry!

Damn him. Damn him. I hope he rots with the fiends.

xxxxxxxxx

Maybe I'm overreacting. It's just so hard, the thought of leaving him, even for a little while. A few hours ago, he was promising to do everything he could to live, to stay with me. Now he's rushing off on a mad mission, alone, and there's nothing I can do to help him. Before he left me, he kissed me and promised to return when he can. But what if that day never comes? Just because he's not actively seeking death doesn't mean he can't be killed. I know the stories; he was reckless with his life even before he was Deathseeker, and old habits die hard. What if he never comes back, and I wait here forever?

No. I can't think that way. I have to trust that he will return. I'll go mad otherwise. I love him, and I think he loves me. We will be together again. I have to believe that. If he doesn't send for me soon, I will find him. Somehow.

The guys are standing in front of the Travel Agency now, saying their goodbyes. They've all made their farewells to me already; Gippal and Baralai both hugged me fiercely and swore to send word when they are safe. They're heading to Luca, together if they can, but they've promised to split up if it becomes too dangerous. Nooj hasn't said outright where he's going, but from the hints he's dropped I think he's heading back to Mushroom Rock, hoping to take refuge with his old allies in the Crusaders. I'm supposed to stay here, gathering intelligence from travelers on the Highroad as quietly as I can, and the others will check in with me as much as possible.

Fayth, I wish this didn't have to end. I'm going to miss them so much -- they're the closest thing I've ever really had to a family. It can't be over forever, can it?

Hopefully not. But just in case it is-- I think there's some space left on the sphere in my camera. So I'll take this last shot of Squadron Five standing together. For old time's sake. The sun will be gone soon; I'd better catch the scene before it gets too dark.

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_The remainder of this journal is blank._


End file.
